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Sometimes, she doesn't seem to recognize me, and sometimes I don't recognize her.” |
I have to be honest here.
I moved hundreds of miles away from her 27 years before dementia moved in. Well, dementia actually moved in 3 years ago (It'd been 24 years after my move), but it was a silent observer in those first years, getting to know her, planning its attack, finding out where the juicier bits of her memory were. During those 27 years, my visits totalled sometimes 4 days a year during some holiday, 8 days a year (a holiday and/or a summer visit), or maybe 10 to 20 days a year (a holiday and/or another summer visit and/or an old friend's something or other). I don't really believe dementia alone makes her look at me with a little teensy spark of recognition mixed with giant wondering flashes of who are you. Because I do not always recognize her too. Dementia might be a thief, but I too was a thief... |
