I see a small child’s vulnerability , at times, in her speech and actions. Do you want this thing back, she says, I look up and she’s holding an empty pudding container and says, this thing that holds that stuff. My heart stops a beat, so precious a moment. She has no idea how fragile she is at this moment. I will cherish this piece of time.
You dropped this thing, she says as she stoops to pick up a piece of paper on the floor. She handles it so carefully, like she’s found treasure. I say thank you and take it tenderly from her fragile, crippled hands, and store it away in my pocket of memories she has found before.
When I remember something she doesn’t, she says, I need to think deep and bring it to my mind’s eye, a saying I’m not sure is understood, but she clarifies with lots of thinking and pondering. Then the grumpy person takes over and I wish I had not brought the memory to her attention. Sometimes , it’s wise to let things go . I must not struggle with this any longer. But, if I let things go, I must let her go, and I’m not ready to do that, yet. So, I say to myself, that’s that! I will ponder this tomorrow, not today.
Lost memories, where do they go? Under a tree? No. Around a bend? No. Then you tell me! They are found beneath the leaves as they gently float to the ground on whispers of time. Sometimes, when we think real hard, a memory will pop up, but for the Alzheimer’s person, they seldom pop up without attaching themselves to older memories for strength and thus we find the confused mind, that cannot untangle the web woven.