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when I met him 4 years ago, he was still painting. he had never talked with anyone about his pd. a mutual friend connected us. he was grateful to be able to talk with a fellow pwp and artist. years of symptoms and emotions flowed. he slowly declined (he is in his late 60' s, me in my early 40's) Last time we spoke , he had become unable to paint. His rich oil paintings that depicted the soul of the west Indies stopped. He told me how he was trying to paint thru his daughter, telling her what colors to use and where to put the brush on the canvas. His wife told me he additionally was diagnosed with shy -dragers or Parkinson's plus she called it, which led to a more rapid decline in his health. when I saw him yesterday, he was being honored at a party in his own house. He was having a bad day. He couldn't get out of bed or speak, he missed his own party. I have a feeling his bad days are gonna get worse. I am deeply moved by seeing his decline and previewing my possible future. his eyes cleared for a moment and he looked at me. no words exist to speak what his eyes did in that moment. "I know Eric, I know" sorry for this bummer stuff guys, thanks for listening, I am having a hard time with this one. Lisa