The strangest thing happened yesterday and the thought of it stays with me today. I visit frequently and regularly with a dear relative who suffers from dementia. The kind of dementia doesn’t matter, it all translates to the same thing. Inability to communicate, to understand, to know.
I read once that someone asked an old man why he went to see his wife in the nursing home every day when she suffered from such severe dementia that she did not know him. He replied that yes she did not know who he was, but he knew who she was. I think of that so often.
Anyway, I am pretty much the only person who visits this dear soul and I do it because she is family, we have a long history and because I love her greatly. Her degree of dementia varies from day to day. Sometimes she knows who…
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