The Day I Killed My Father

It was September 18, 2006. I had arrived at my father’s apartment in a senior living facility in Bethesda, Maryland, on day 200 or so of his descent into vascular dementia. Vascular dementia progresses more quickly and viciously than Alzheimers, and is less susceptible to treatment. It is irreversible. My father was 92.

He was lying in bed, writhing and …