Ignorance is bliss
Sometimes, I think it’s a blessing not to remember. At least, not consciously.
Take mother, for instance.
About three Saturdays back, she suddenly told me, “I miss your father.”
A while later, “ask him to come and see me.”
Quite a while after, “He’s on his way, right? You’re here already.”
To which I replied, “He can’t come to see you anymore. But he asked us to come and see you. Is that alright?”
A brief nod, then no more mention of father. One of the care-givers did tell us that there was one day, something mother said made them think she’s aware. Apparently, she told them, “My other half is no more.”
But it’s not always so sombre when we visit mother. In fact, visits with her are always filled with laughter.
Yesterday, after arriving at GT Heritage and settling on the sofa next to her, I happened to be too close and caught a whiff of her mouth.
“Your mouth smells.”
“Of course, it smells,” she replied without hesitation. “I just finished eating.”
Later, when my brother’s weekly phone call came through, I heard her repeat his question.
“What am I doing? I’m sitting here.”
Yes, she’s come a long way since her minor stroke following father’s death in April. More than a long way. Thank You, Lord.
