All Mixed Up

While working together in my kitchen recently (something my mother LOVES to do), she turned to me with a big smile on her face and said, "I sure am glad you and I grew up together!"

So my previous post, that one about her calling me her sister?  I guess that wasn't a one-time thing.  I wonder if she'll eventually start calling me Joyce, the name of her real sister.

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This past Sunday was the annual family reunion of my dad's side of the family; and during the course of the event, Mom turned to Dad and, indicating my youngest son, said, "Now who does he belong to?"  Granted, there were a lot of people there, some of whom my mom had not seen in quite a long time.  I wouldn't have expected her to remember all of them or keep straight the relationships.  But this is my son, someone she sees every single day, someone she reads stories to and sits across from at the supper table and gives hugs and kisses to and tells "I love you."  Not only did she not remember his name (not a surprise there, since she only rarely seems to remember the names of my kids, except for my youngest who is our only daughter), she didn't even know that he was part of my family.  How much more sad can this get?

Don't answer that.  I know it can/will get even more heart-breaking.

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Our neighbors' names are Douglas and Wilma, and we have a very close relationship with them.  But recently when Dad referred to doing something with Douglas, Mom said, "Who is that?"  And the same with Wilma.

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My aunt, my dad's sister, visited from Chicago this past weekend and stayed with Mom and Dad.  On the first night she was here, Mom turned to Dad in their bedroom as they were getting ready for bed and asked, "Is someone else here in the house?"

"Yes," he answered, "Helen is across the hall."

"Who's Helen?" was her response.

Helen, whom she has known for over 50 years, has now vanished from her mind.

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And the journey along this hard, hard path continues...