Paris Revisited

Watching the YouTube video above brings back memories of one of the greatest adventures of Gregory and my life but also a deep sadness. In re-living these adventures, and being able to feel Gregory walking besides me, I feel like travel and discovery by myself will never be as joyous again. At least not for now.

In 2005, Gregory and I spent ten days in Paris. At that point Gregory was three or four years into the diagnosis of Dementia/Alzheimer's but he was doing pretty well.

We joined, last minute, on a trip that friends Chuck and John had been planning. We got so excited hearing about their plans and at the potential of spending time with them in Paris, not to mention being in Paris at all, that within three days I was able to arrange all the details: free miles first class on Lufthansa Airlines and an apartment on Isle du le Cité overlooking Notre Dame Cathedral (located just around the corner from Chuck and John's apartment. It was a trip that was meant to be.

During part of the trip we did things together with Chuck and John and at other times, we went on our own adventures.

Click here to see our photos of Montmartre.

Another of the many highlights of our trip to Paris, and probably the most significant was a visit to Vaux-leVicomte which had been a life long ambition of Gregory's.

Click here to see our photos of Vaux-le-Vicomte

Insight or Intuition? Real or Imagined? PART I

Yesterday at Lieberman,Gregory and I were having a happy, loving interaction about nothing in particular. Communication on my part but who knows what he was receiving.

Then he stopped me by grasping my arm and tried to tell me something. Did I have insight into what he was trying to say through his broken comments or was it intuition. Was it imagined or based on my 40 years of knowing him? Based on that experience came this poem:

The Exchange

I don't want to stay, to stay.
I want to see, to see, to see.

A brief flicker of sadness in him
Then his notice of sadness in me

Followed by an apology: I am sorry. I am sorry.
Then my giving permission: Say what you have to.

Really?
Yes.

After the exchange I tried to distract by asking about the good things in our life. Perhaps his positive answers are real or perhaps they are cause/effect of my positive voice or perhaps they are my appropriately forcing the correct answers.

"You really like it here, don't you?" "Yes."
"The people are really nice, aren't they?" "Yes."
"The food is so good, isn't it?" "Yes."
"Manny takes really good care of your, doesn't he?" "Yes."
"Do you feel safe here?" "Oh Yes" (Said with a little added emphasis.)

So insight or intuition? Insight would mean closer to knowing with proof. Intuition would be understanding with heart. Either way I have had to give the experience a lot of thought.

It appears that Gregory is content in his narrow, limited, focused community and life at Lieberman. Up until now I have avoided talking about the past or even saying "I am going home" when I leave. I do not talk about "home" or "the condo" since it is no longer part of his life. I just say, "I am leaving now."

Insight or intuition? Is it fair to keep memories of the past away from Gregory, might he enjoy re-visiting them with my help, or will doing so prove to be too upsetting to him?

Reliving the past is still too upsetting to me when I compare it to the present but perhaps revisiting discrete experiences, like our time in Mexico or a trip to Paris or a party we attended, will be less painful.

Maybe it is time to help Gregory recreate his lost memories. I'll let you know what happens.

On Sep 22, 2014, at 8:45 AM, Susan Wiseman wrote:

Michael 

Thinking of you!  Read one of your last blog entries, and although you write in an upbeat manner, it did make me feel very sad. On a more positive note, we thought of you last week while on vacation in a place called Comala in Colima.

We had the good fortune to meet the director of the Museum of Popular Art.  Suffice it to say that this man has a collection of miniatures that I know would make you green with envy.  They are amazing.  When photos are downloaded I will send you some. 

You do sound well, and I am glad.

Happy Rosh Hashana.  Give Gregory a hug for us.  We think of both of you often. 

Love

S & D

Hi S,

First love to you and to D. Will look forward to seeing the photos of the miniatures you mentioned. I do get GREEN with envy over things like that. Envy doesn't mean I wish the museum to have less but I want to have more! 

I am well and each day gets a little easier to face. Doesn't mean the Alzheimer's has gone away but it has been easier for me as Secondary Care Giver and with most of my life (all be it alone) once again my own. Gregory is doing really well for this moment in time. 

Compared to the past ... well I try not to go there if you know what I mean. But our visits are meaningful and we have a good time when we are together. Lieberman and Manny are really the best thing Judaism has ever done for me (the facility is part of CJE Council for Jewish Elderly.) 

Yes I am still very sad (as you said you were when reading my update) but I have learned to carry that sadness with me as a reminder of the great love I have for Gregory.

Soon,

Michael 

In Quebec City Canada

Wanted to take an adventure of a trip but one that was not too far from home (read Gregory) and not for too long. So I ended up in French speaking Quebec City, Canada. Check my post at http://mhorvich.blogspot.com

In an e-mail to a friend I spoke of my loneliness at not being here with Gregory:

 IN MY CASE LONELINESS ALWAYS FOLLOWS ME BECAUSE GREGORY CANNOT. BUT I LEARN TO CARRY JOY AS WELL. I ENJOY THE SIGHTS, SOUNDS, AND NEW EXPERIENCES BUT AM STILL USED TO SHARING AND DECONSTRUCTING THEM WITH HIM. I ENJOY BEING WITH MY SELF AND HAVE ALWAYS ENJOYED MY SOLITUDE. BUT SOLITUDE WAS A WAY OF RESPECTING AND CELEBRATING OUR TOGETHERNESS. I REALLY MISS HIM,  AGAIN I'LL GO WITH 90 SECONDS  OF TEARS AND SADNESS THEN GET ON WITH THE NIGHT. 

Grief

Time will help heal but never erase the beauty and the sadness that is life. 

Change

It is a new kind of sadness, grieving, despair.
Fear of the future and my ability to support him are gone.
Frustrations at his continued inabilities are left behind.
Anger of how his needs are changing my life do not exist.

At Lieberman Center his needs are being met
Although never as well as I was able to meet them.
I was always there for him when he needed me.
Now he waits, in a wet diaper, for the aide to arrive

I go to visit, to hold his hand, to read aloud
At meals I help him cut his food or manage his fork
I rub his neck and his swollen ankles,
And then an hour or two later, I go home.

He continues to live in the moment there
Seems to be enough, and he is content again.
He has never asked why or when or what or where.
The narrow world that is now his life, his home

The minutes, to me, seem to go so slowly
But his days pass easily and without variation.
The place through my eyes is painful to witness
He doesn't seem to notice the difference.

And then the fall and the eight staples in his head.
And the pain in his back and neck from the fall.
And the Grand Mal Seizure with its hospital stay.
But he doesn't complain, or cry, or need.

And the raised rails on his lowered bed,
And the increased difficulty moving around
And the need for the wheel chair to get around
But he doesn't resent, or anger, or demand.

So, it is a new kind of sadness, grieving, despair.
Fear of the future and my ability to support him are gone.
Frustrations at his continued inabilities are left behind.
Anger of how his needs are changing my life do not exist.

Now, with most of my previous emotions put to rest;
Fear, frustration, anger, resentment,
My sadness and grief and despair
Can be more purely felt and therefore more strongly.

All I can do now is wait, patiently wait.
Wait for the end of life to arrive.
His blessed end,
or mine.

A Hard Place To Be

It is half past midnight. I snuggle into bed. I read a little. I close the light. Time for bed. Time for sleep.
I feel the sadness rise in me and try to damp it down. Suppress it. Hold it in. Tell it, "Go away!"
The tears begin. The sobs begin. The shaking. The howling. The gasping. The flood. The tsunami.
So many never-agains. So many for-evers. So many never-to-be futures for him, for me, for us.

I miss my friend, my love, my partner, my soul mate, the only one who really matters to me.
Never to be held. Or rocked. Or poked.  Or joked. In the same way now as then. Never again.
Never to be supported but to support him. Never to calmed but to calm him. Never to be OK again.
Never to ease my pain but to be in pain so strong, so sad, so deep, so insidious, so lasting.

I miss him so much. What he used to be. What he has been. What he could have been yet.
I miss us so very much. What we used to be. What we have been. What we could have been yet.
I miss myself so much. What I used to be. What I have been. What I will yet become without him.
Change is so hard. A rock and a pitcher. A rock and a hard place. Rock, Paper, Scissors. Broken.

The tears continue. The sobs continue, The howling gets louder. The future grieves and so do I.

Christmas Sadness

Today was to be the day for decorating the condo for Christmas but.. ..A
How can one find the love, joy, and magic in things Christmas.............L
When the only feeling available to me is sadness knowing....................Z
That the prospect for the sadness to change doesn't...............................H
Seem to exist any more as his abilities...................................................E
Continue to slowly disintegrate into.......................................................I
Confusion, frustration and finally...........................................................M
As we welcome death as.........................................................................E
A way back to peace................................................................................R
And quiet and.......................................................................................... '
Rest..........................................................................................................S

After a difficult morning,
Gregory asked,
"When will you be able to have a little time to yourself?"
Michael replied,
"Never again, to be honest."

GONE:
•Unable to identify when he needs to go to the bathroom.
•Unable to identify verbally whether he urinated, defecated, both, or neither.
•Unable to clean up after defecating or messing self.
•Unable to shower by himself.
•Setting up tooth brush with tooth paste.
•Unable to navigate a plate of food.
•Unable to automatically identify and use a knife, fork, and/or spoon.
•Ability to pick out clothes.
•Ability to zip up jacket.
•Ability to answer a phone.
•Ability to help make bed.
•Ability to understand the mechanics of reading a book.
•Helping with any household tasks.
•Being by himself outside of the condo.
•Being by himself inside the condo.
...and more

ALMOST GONE:
•Comprehension of all types: TV show, musical, theater, book, verbal exchange.
•Use of fork to scoop, spear, or cut.
•Correct orientation of shirt and pants when getting dressed.
•Putting on belt and hitting all loops.
•Following simple directions of any type.
•Turning on light switch.
•Remembering to put on face cream and deodorant.
•Showering self.
•Follow through when understanding what to do without instant forgetting.
•Folding laundry. No longer can do underpants and nightshirts. Sometimes not undershirts.
•Taking garbage and/or recycle to the room at the end of the common hall.
...and more

STILL PRESENT:
•Saying "I love you."
•Sleeping through the night.
•Brushing teeth when tooth paste is applied to brush for him.
•Doesn't mess pants too often.
•Laughs.
•Enjoys being with friends.
•Seems to enjoy movies, TV, theater, etc.
•Swimming.
•Long walks.
•Socially appropriate behavior.
•Calm and content.
...and more

To Love

To truly love someone takes a great act of courage. It is the only event besides life itself which has a built in end and therefore brings fear and sadness as well as peace and joy. Either the love dies or the person you love dies and in some ways that knowledge lingers just a few steps behind all through your life.

This thought, as expressed by me, was part of the theme of last night's play at the Goodman.

“October 5 - November 3, 2013 In the Owen
Extraordinary performances”

• — CHICAGO TRIBUNE

This lyrical new work from “formidably talented” (The New Yorker) playwright Noah Haidle explores the passage of time and the fleeting pleasures of life through three generations of a Midwestern family. 

Change is in the air as Violet prepares to bring twin boys into the world. Inside her womb, her unborn sons contemplate their future, while outside her body her world is in transformation: her husband is secretly planning to leave her, her father is slipping into senility and her daughter has taken a vow of silence.Smokefall spans the lives of this family in an expansive poetic treatise on the fragility of life and the power of love.

A Guidance System

Emotions are your guidance system, not the cause your problems. Emotions are the response to what is happening in your life. They are an indication of what you are experiencing. Like a thermometer tells you the temperature in a room, your emotions tell you about the state of your life. Therefore, emotions are a good thing that can guide you to making your life what you want it to be.

Usually one hears about guidance systems when referring to airplanes or missiles. With airplanes, the guidance system helps make sure you will safely reach your vacation destination. In shooting a missile, the guidance system helps make sure the missile hits its destination doing the desired damage.

With emotions, the guidance system tells you whether what you are experiencing is making you happy or sad, is right or wrong, is good or bad. So if you are angry or depressed or sad, that is not the problem. That is the measure of your problem. 

To make changes, you must dig deeper than your emotions (or maybe you already have) to find the cause of your anger, your depression, your sadness. It is easy to say, "I am depressed" and to leave it there, being depressed. It is as if labeling the emotion is enough. However, when used as a guidance system, your emotions help you to be armed with a better understanding of the current state of affairs of your life and you can begin to deal with the cause, to correct it if you can. 

As you make these changes, you will feel your emotional barometer change. Most situations can be changed, if not by yourself then with the help of a family member, a friend, or a trained professional. In those situations that cannot be changed, your thinking can be. While it may seem difficult to impossible, one does have that choice and that ability. 

I believe that each one of us is creating for ourselves a life that reflects how we think about things, how we see things, whether we are optimistic or pessimistic. We must remember that our emotions are only the measure your life not the cause. 

If your emotions are telling you that you are happy and that your life is good, keep up the good work. If your emotions are telling you that you are sad, unhappy, lonely, frightened, depressed, etc, then think about how to begin the process of change.

On a day to day basis, you can alter your emotions by how you think about things. If the person in line at the grocery store in front of you is giving the checker a hard time and holding up the line, it is not necessarily about you and your anger at having to wait or your disgust with the woman's rudeness.

Maybe the person can barely afford her groceries, maybe her husband is dying of cancer, maybe she just got a call that her child was in trouble again at school. If you can begin to look at the "maybes," chances are you will not be as angry with this stranger who is holding up the line as you were. Often, a person's problems are invisible, so don't take them for granted.

Even with something as severe as the diagnosis of an incurable disease; a person can change their thinking. He can spend all the time left being depressed, down, and sad or he can make the best of the time left, do those things he has been postponing, make sure he tells those who matter that he loves them, look at those parts of his life for which he should be grateful. He can live life as well as he can, while he can.

While some sayings are trite, like ...  you can change if you want to, it is all in how you think about it, if you change your attitude you can change your life  ...  they are true. Try it, you'll be surprised.

Meditation

Today in my Mindful Meditation Yoga class I realized that I can hold joy within me and keep sadness on the outside. I can invite the sadness in when I want to process it but I do not have to live with it and do not have to let it in uninvited.


I am taking a class at the Heartwood Center in Evanston with Corinne Peterson.
http://www.corinnepeterson.com/yoga-therapy/

A Play in A Series of Poems

I have written many pieces of poetry chronicling the path which I have traveled with Gregory, my life partner of over 35 years, who was diagnosed with young onset Alzheimer's Disease some ten years ago when he was fifty five years old. For the most part, the feedback on my work has been favorable. 

For a next project, wouldn't it be interesting to try to write a screen play in which the audience would experience what a person with Alzheimer's goes through and what those who love him endure? It probably wouldn't be hard for me to write the screen play because I have so much material from which to draw.

The question, however, is who would want to watch it? Who would want to sit through some 90 minutes with one intermission of heaviness, sadness, frustration, confusion, depression and tears even if laced with love, compassion, insight, and humor?

Death Hangs Heavy

On December 31, two days ago, we received a call from Gregory's niece Renee telling us that Mark, Gregory's brother, had suffered a major stroke and that only time would tell if he survived it or not. This after many over the years "resetting the heart" procedures, watching his weight, putting in a pace maker, removing the pacemaker in favor of a machine that basically ran his heart full time.

It brings a heaviness to the air that one cannot completely describe and that is yours to carry around during your day to day activities of living. You continue to live as he possibly continues to die. It reminds you of your own fragility as well as your continued strength. You feel a sense of sadness and fear yet numbed versions. Did I say a sense of helplessness. Pray? Not sure how that helps. Hold positive healing thoughts, sounds better to me.

So we continue to wait and hope try not to notice that shadow following us around the house.

                Unaware By: Michael A. Horvich (2010)

There is a fear

That lurks just behind

The awareness of your thinking

Hiding

The next moment

Will not be like this moment

Or the one before

Different

And with a comment

Or the ring of a phone

All will change

Forever

Negative Thoughts

Life seems a facade.

Truth hidden and frail.

Each day more sadness 

Covered by my smiling veil.

What of optimism

Or of thoughts attracting thought?

Might it  be just a sham of hope 

That really serves for naught?

Even Love is not as strong

A cure-all as it used to be.

I wake with the sun, and begin again

Despair following me.

I Don't Mind (Really!)

We, Gregory and I, have a collection of seven (count them) seven Miniature Christmas Trees (approx 6" to 8" tall) decorated with miniature ornaments. They are lined up against the wall on the dining room table (which is in the living room) currently Christmas Central (usually Gregory's desk.)

We have had a number of small parties (more at homes) and one large party (friends, neighbors from the old neighborhood, and neighbors from the condo where we currently live) this holiday.

At these parties, Gregory gets to tell his stories (with great difficulty) and he enjoys being able to share. Usually I tell his stories but there are a few (a very few) that he is still able to tell (wave his arms at and stumble over.)

One of his stories (when we have company over) is to tell about (and show) his recent oil stick paintings. This is a new skill added since he has lost so many (like playing his piano or doing cross word puzzles.) He takes great joy in painting (loves his mentor artist Nancy) and enjoys sharing with our friends and family who sometimes offer to buy one (but he isn't ready to sell any yet.)

Another story is to point out (show) the line of variously sized and colored, heavy mercury ornaments which are hung (artistically) along the fire sprinkler pipe which runs across the living room (which is really The Great Room or the Loft Space.) He calls it (when he can remember the name) his Christmas Pipe.

Another story popped up recently (which was a surprise to me) but which I let pass. He was showing a guest the miniature Christmas Trees lined up on the desk/table and pointed to one saying, "This is my favorite. They (the miniature ornaments) are very old and belonged to my Grandmother. I love these the most and will never let them go.

I don't mind. Really I don't. Turns out that the miniature Christmas Tree with faded, antique, tiny round, multi colored ball ornaments to which he was referring (which Gregory and I have collected over the more than thirty five years we have been together) has now become something inherited from his Grandmother and which he will never let go. I was surprised. I am sad. But I understand (and I don't mind.) Really.

Tears of Blood

I cry tears of blood
Tears of blood
My crimson shirt conceals
The grief and sorrow.

The tears come easily
Running down my face
Flags of confusion
Banners of loneliness.

Unnoticed
Unrequited
Unreciprocated
With tears of blood, I am undone.

The red of a sunset
The heat of a flame
The sweetness of a blood orange
I am undone.

To Every Thing There Is a Season

I have found that with Alzheimer's Disease, to every thing there is NO season. We all have our routines. Most of us circle around our routines with tiny changes here and there. For example, as the seasons change, our routines change. We take longer walks, we dress differently for Summer than we do for Spring. The days are longer, the nights shorter, we sleep differently. We eat differently.

My latest awareness with Gregory and the progress of his dementia is that the seasons will change anyway but he is not be able to change with them. This Spring into Summer he has not been able to gauge what to wear, how to dress based on the temperature outside. The temperature means nothing, the weather forecast means nothing.

Jeans vs shorts, long sleeve vs short sleeve, heavy jacket vs light jacket ... mean nothing. When I suggest he wear an undershirt under his over shirt, the words do not translate. If I try to explain it only complicates things. If I get up and show him, it confuses.

Here I am again at a point where I find myself saying to myself, "I don't know how to do this." The tears are back, the sadness is back, the heaviness is back. I don't know how to do this. There is no answer. I don't know how to do this.

Yesterday, while at a meeting at the museum, I called to see how he was doing. I guess he got through breakfast alright but he answered, "I am not doing well." He sounded like something was terribly wrong. He sounded ill. He sounded distraught. He finally was able to explain (remember language doesn't work too well anymore) that he just didn't know what to put on so he could go out for a walk. I tried to suggest but it only confused. Finally I said, "Honey just put on anything, go outside, and see how it feels."

"I'll figure it out," was his reply. All I could do was tell him I love him, go back to my meeting, and hope for the best.

Just now as I am writing this, he brightly showed up and wished me, "Happy Birthday!"

"Why do you think today is someone's birthday?" I gently asked.

"Did I mess up again?" he wasn't able to explain. 

"What made you think today was a birthday?"

After a thoughtful pause, "Oh, I can't go through all of that."

Turns out he thought it was his birthday (which is 7/4 and today is 6/14) but I am not sure what prompted that.

I think I'll go take a shower and cry.

The lyrics are taken almost verbatim from the Book of Ecclesiastes, as found in the King James Version of the Bible, (Ecclesiastes 3:1) though the sequence of the words was rearranged for the song. Ecclesiastes is traditionally ascribed to King Solomon.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. With Alzheimers's ... there is only time ...

But Not Necessarily For Kittens

Let me recount a beautiful but sad experience I had at 6:00 this morning. Since Gregory's illness has progressed, I have become a light sleeper. So this morning I was instantly aware that Gregory was awake. I couldn't tell if the noises he was making were laughter or crying.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"No." he replied through his tears. "I miss her so. Do you know who I mean?"

I quickly thought of his mother, Helen, whose death anniversary is tomorrow. Maybe that is who he meant but our conversation took a different direction. Perhaps he was awake or just back from a dream. Either way I did not analyze.

"No, not my mother. My painting teacher. Nancy. I wish she would come back. I miss her so!" and he continued to whimper and sob. "Where is she?"

By now I was wide awake, on my elbow, holding his shoulders and we rocked. "She is in California at an art show. She'll be back. It will be OK. It will be Ok." And we rocked.

Tears began to run from my eyes, unasked and unannounced. It makes me so sad when he is sad. But I could only be there for him and lie by his sadness. Soon he calmed down, "I am OK now. Isn't that silly. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. No it isn't silly. I know you really miss Nancy. She'll be back soon."

I know how much he has been enjoying his new artistic endeavor painting with oils. I know how important his relationship with Nancy is. As she says, their time together needs no language and we seem to have a quiet ability to communicate, not necessarily with lots of words.

"Maybe I shouldn't say this but I have an idea for a piece. With all grays," he inserted into my thinking. Then, "Do you think I could take two or three pieces to the party?" he asked like a small boy would ask. He was referring to the Oscar Party we are going to tonight at Danny and David's. We have been doing this for some twenty years now.

"Perhaps that wouldn't be a good idea. We don't want to take the focus away from Danny and David. We could make a few smaller photographs of your paintings to carry in your wallet if you would like."

"That would be nice. This is so silly. I am sorry."

"Honey don't apologize. It's OK. Sometimes waking up from a dream can be difficult and strange."

"But not necessarily for kittens," he said as he petted our cat Mariah who was at his side, "Not necessarily for kittens."

Valentine's Day

Ouch. This one was hard. You know how some people say, "If you have to be reminded it doesn't count?" Well I have decided that it does count. For Valentine's Day I bought Gregory a beautiful satin heart filled with Godiva chocolates. I didn't want him to feel badly that I remembered him for Valentine's Day and that he didn't remember me. Also I wanted to be remembered so I began to remind him a week early. "You have seven days to get me something for Valentine's Day." 6 ... 5 ... 4 ...  3... etc.

Today, he went out for his usual afternoon walk and without my reminding he stopped at the Barnes and Nobel and bought me a Valentine's Day Card (at least I think that is what he got, I will not know for sure until Monday.) I suggested he sign it and we could put it on the counter until Monday. He did not know what I meant. "It has been such a long time since I got anyone a card!" Then he got overwhelmed and began crying at not knowing what to do. While he sat on the bench, I held his head in my arms and we rocked together. When he calmed down we set about accomplishing this difficult adventure together.

He kept trying to take the card out of its bag but I explained, "I don't want to see it until Valentine's Day." I explained that one puts the name of the person on the envelope and writes a message inside the card. Based on the look on his face, I was not sure if he knew any of the words or concepts. I waited patiently while he did some heavy thinking, "I think I just want what's written inside." Maybe he did understand what I had said.

That was good enough for me so I sat him down at my computer desk, gave him a red pen, reached into the bag without looking (saying "I'm not looking.")  and gave him the envelope on which to write my name.

"This is going to be hard," he said so I took a post-it note and wrote my name on it. With some coaching he was 80% able to copy my name from the post-it onto the envelope. Next I opened the card (still not looking but with a little peeking so I could see where he should sign his name and pointed. This time I wrote his name on a post-it so he could copy. It was more difficult for him copying his own name.

Finally we were finished, he sealed the envelope (with my prompting) and we put it on the counter with my gift for him to wait until Monday. We will go out for dinner and then after watching a movie at home I am making Fudge Brownie Volcanoes (the kind you warm up in the microwave so the center fudge melts and runs on cutting) with Ice Cream. It will be good.

Remembering the Forgetting

Sometimes forgetting is good. Like this morning when Gregory asked me, "It needs to be fixed?"

I didn't remember that last night the TV and Cable Box were not communicating. He stood by my computer as I stopped working to listen while he tried to compose his thoughts.

I finally asked, "Can you show me?"

He said, "Yes" and I followed him into the TV room where he stood trying to remember what he wanted to tell me about.

Then I remembered the TV and all was well. "The TV?"

"Yes," he glowed!

I thanked him for reminding me and he felt good. All was well ... including my smiling loving face and my breaking heart.