Watching TV last night, after a very cheerful afternoon.
Don had asked a few times what Debbie had wanted (his favourite caregiver had come but they stayed in out of the storm, and he listened to music) and I replied, “oh she just came to hang out with you,” and he nodded, “Oh, Of course.”
Don says, confidingly, “you know, for the last…couple of weeks I have been thinking I wanted to go back to Slate Falls,” (I braced myself for the usual tirade, usually ending in accusations about taking his driver’s license), “to visit my father and mother, but they are gone.” He wiped away a few quiet tears.
Returned to a similar theme this morning. I came out to rescue him from wherever he had gotten stuck (the middle of the dining room) and he said, “but you’re not my mother, or my sister….” and I replied, “No, I’m your wife.” I convinced him to come back to bed to drink our morning coffee, and talk about things. He continued, “I don’t think we should move, I think we should stay here.” I replied, “Well it’s a pretty good house,” and he answered, “yes its a really great house! I was thinking, out in the kitchen, if we moved, where would we get the coffee? We make it here.”
We then went over who was living at Slate Falls now and named all the brothers and sisters, and all Don’s sons and daughters, accounting for where each of them were. He faltered over Dalt, his dead brother, and i held my breath not wanting to deliver that bad news again, but he quickly recovered: “oh yes he has a new truck,” and I said smoothly, “yes Carl has a new truck, a red one.” And life goes on.
Interesting that the transformation of Dalt into Carl remains set safely in his mind, but his mom and dad, he remembers so far, are dead.
I continue to feel calmer after my respite a couple of weeks ago, although very very sad, A strange sort of calm sad.