I get in on a rainy Saturday afternoon, after a stretch pruning last year’s raspberries, feeling pretty good.
I have new zelcrow closing shoes for him – he’s been wearing them for years and likes them, takes them on and off at will, not necessarily to the joy of the care staff.
To my surprise he was up and fairly … amiable. He had no idea what shoes or new shoes were, but sat down and let me make the switch, talking a mile a minute.
But in that strange way, not as out of it as he seems. At one point my hand collided with his, whereupon we had the full scale collapse, leaning back in the chair moaning, eyes closed but zero anguish on his face. I laughed and called him a great actor and he sat up immediately and said, “well, yes!”
Such a confusing state of mind.
I also brought his ipod and popped the headset on to play Robert Plant Band of Joy, one of our old favourites.
He said oh that is so beautiful, and started to dance. We played the whole CD and he was joyous.
Me I had to be very stern with myself not to get dragged into grief remembering all the times we listened and danced…Music mostly makes me cry now.
After awhile he leaned over and asked demandingly, “But Who are you?”
I started out with my name but it was ringing no bells, so I said, “I’m your wife.”
“Really? I never heard of any of that.”
I smiled my hardest. “Well here I am. Aren’t you a lucky man!”
And the smile crept into his eyes and he agreed.
Later he took the headphones off and pulled my hand to his ear to hear the music that way.