It had started off as small things. He couldn't remember where he left his keys, he couldn't place in his head the name of the street. He couldn't recognize his old colleague when he bumped into her on the street.
The world slowly began to get harder and harder to live in.
He knew the faces, but he couldn't place the names at first. His family began to worry when he didn't even know the name of his daughter.
"It's me, father, Eliza."
"El-liz-ah?" He repeated back slowly, looking into her tearing eyes, "Are you a friend of my daughter?"
Tears slipped down her cheek, shaking her head and turning away in pain.
His wife held his hand as they led him to the car.
"Where are we going, dear?" He asked her, sitting down in the passenger seat and watching the world move the opposite direction to the car.
"A place where you'll be safe."
"But I am safe here..."
His elderly wife shook her trembling head and the stopped outside a large white building.
She kissed him on the cheek as he was led away by some nurses, entering into his new home.
His last home.
He would sit out in the garden, trying to remember things, looking at the flowers and how they were pretty... yet he had forgotten what they were called.
"Hello, who are you?" He asked his wife as she came to visit him two to three times a week, "You remind me of someone... I just can't put my finger on it."
"It's me, John." She told him with watery eyes, "Please tell me you know me."
"Ah yes, one of the friendly nurses."
She closed her eyes weakly, breathing in softly and breaking down when she released her breath.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
It was when she met him near the end of his time, that her heart broke so much it felt like it would never stop hurting.
"Sorry?" He asked her as she sat with him at a table on her last visit. "Could you tell me something?"
"What, John?" She whispered with aching words.
"Who's that man in the reflection of the mirror."
"That's. You." She replied, her lip trembling in horror.
"Me? But... but, it can't be."
She looked at him as he seemed frazzled with this realization.
"I'm not old... am I?"
"What's your name?" She asked him quietly, her hands holding together with bravery on the table.
"I..." He replied, before biting his bottom lip and looking upwards to think. His face suddenly fell, as he looked at her worried, and uttered, "I... don't... know."
"John." She said, and he looked at her with his own concern, "You are John and a good man."
"A good man..." He repeated, and like that, the visit was over.
He lay in his bed that night, looking at the ceiling and saw a white light up above him, drawing him to it.
He lifted off the bed and looked back to see an elderly man breathe his last breath on the bed.
"Please..." He begged, looking down to his shining light young body as it drew towards the light, "Who are you... what d-do you want?"
"You," A deep rumbling voice spoke back to him and asked, "Do you know why?"
"Because... my n-name is John..." He replied and felt a sense of peace go through his soul. He was drawn to the light and he said, "And I am a good man... aren't I?"
It was at that second he saw his life flash before him. All the people he had loved and hurt, all his pain and blessings. He was in tears as he saw everything that had ever been done to him lead him to this moment.
"Yes, John," The voice told him calmly, lovingly, "You were and you are a good man."