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Tuesday, August 5, 2014

We Can't Stop Our Feelings from Hurting August 5,2014

An incident yesterday at my husband's memory care center reminded me of another a long time ago.

When I was a young teen, permitted to remain with my parents' company for a short while before they got down to the serious business of playing cards, I overheard my father tell a stale old racist, sexist joke and I saw my mother quietly wince. She had just turned forty and the joke was about an older man wanting to trade his wife for two twenties.

Yesterday Steve and I went to the memory care center together and while I was greeting other visitors and residents, Steve greeted my spouse who was walking around. When I walked over, my husband looked right at me instead of looking down or lately, keeping his eyes closed. He began to speak in his own language which unfortunately we do not understand as I said, "Hi, dear" and gave him a hug.

His response, clear as a bell, "Get rid of those," as he pointed with both hands to my cheeks.

"But Sweetheart" I answered, "I don't have any make-up on my cheeks."
He shook his head and ran his hand gently along my face. I understood and pulled the skin up to my ears as if I were having a face-lift.
"Like that," he said.

From Alzheimer's world as from children, the truth just bursts forth without inhibition. My father loved my mother very much; the timing of her birthday merely reminded him of this old joke, but.....

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