A word is like a face

My dear Grandmother who lived almost to the age of 100 years old (by three weeks) was not afflicted with dementia.  When out-of-town relatives or friends came to visit, I would greet them in the driveway to show them where to park; as we walked up to the front door, they would ask me if I thought Ruth would recognize them, it had been so very long.  I would reply, "Yes, she sure will, she has been looking forward to your visit" which was always true.  She would get dressed especially nicely that morning and quiz me on whether we had plenty of  things to eat and drink, was everything ready.  Then, when our visitors walked into the living room, her dear face would light up and I could hear a happy relief in their voices.  I mention this about Grandmother because I have seen firsthand a person with beautiful clarity of mind, a very astute observer and totally engaged.   She had a wonderful memory.  On her 97th birthday, she recited "Trees" for my Mother and me (we would give "birthday gifts" to each other or give back the Swarovski pin that was a gift at Christmas; her reciting "Trees" was her thank you to us for her birthday party).

My dear stepdad is afflicted with dementia and yet, in some aspects, I see a similarity to my Grandmother; he has a cheerful, affectionate personality; he is kind and thoughtful.  He wants to put people at ease, like a good host.

Yes, he is not being able to remember names always or put them with faces, but he keeps trying.  This morning we were practicing our names with him; he can remember my Mom's name, Beverly, but he was getting bogged down on mine.  We just kind of throw these practice sessions into the conversation, nothing to be making him feel self-conscious.  I will ask my Mom if SHE remembers my name, she pauses to give Dad a chance to tell her what it is.

Sometimes he asks "where is Whatchamacallit" and Mom surmises he means me.  One time he said to her "where is the little blond girl who helps me all the time".  That's okay!  :)  I mean, he is looking for me, WHO I am, even though he doesn't remember my name.

We went to Costco this afternoon and on our way to the exit, Dad was pushing the cart, I was just in front of the cart.  Mom was walking a bit ahead of us.  Dad called out, "Beverly, are we going out to the car?  Oh, no, I mean, Sue, are we going out to the car?"  I was so thrilled when I heard him call out my name, as well as his having realized he meant to say my name.  I walked next to him and told him yes, we were going out to the car and that he is really great.  He was pleased with himself for remembering my name.

Even though Dad does not remember names as he used to, he is a very good reader and we like to put on the news where he can read the captions out loud.  In 2009, I printed out the poem "Trees" as I recalled what a favorite it was of Grandmother's; I also printed out "The Gettysburg Address".    Sometimes, I ask Dad to read them aloud to me and I would say he does a pretty good job of reading the words, although where he has a problem sometimes with a word like "consecrate", he might say "concentrate", but he comes up with a replacement word quite quickly, which I somehow think is pretty good, too.  Afterwards, he seems like he has been given a vitamin, a shot in the arm.  It seems to bolster his confidence.

Every day, I ask Dad about the first two lines of "Trees";  I say, "Dad, I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a . . . " and 99% of the time, he will say, "tree" unless he decides to kid around and then he says, "sea" or "pea" or even "me", then he smiles.

After Dad does some reading out loud, reading so beautifully as he does, I also throw in faces and names such as Abraham Lincoln after he reads "The Gettysburg Address".

It seems to me that somehow, that part of his mind which is able to read a word can also read a face, recognize the face and say the name belonging to that face.