About an hour before we left for dinner Thursday night, Kate came into the family room and brought with her two pair of socks and a tube of toothpaste with a missing top. She pointed to the photo book her brother made for her and asked, “Should I take this?” I told her I didn’t think she would need it at Casa Bella. She said, “Okay” and sat down in a chair with her iPad.
As we were about to leave for dinner, she picked up the two pair of socks she had earlier placed on the table beside her. She said, “I want to take these.” I said, “Do you think you’ll need them?” She said, “Not right now, but I really want these black socks.” Then she added, “These white ones too.” I got up to go, and she said, “I think I had better go to the bathroom now.” She had the socks in her hand and said, “I want to keep these.” I put out my hand and said, “I could put them in your sock drawer.” She gave me a big smile and handed them to me. The tube of toothpaste remained on a table.
We had a very nice time at Casa Bella. This was not one of their music nights, so we ate in the smaller front section of the restaurant. Until we started attending their music nights the first, second, and third Thursdays of the month, we always ate in this section. It felt a little like coming home. Over the years, this is where we had come to celebrate special moments as well as to console ourselves when we needed to be comforted. It is very quiet and offered just the right setting for reminiscing. At one point in our conversation, Kate asked, “What is the name of this place?” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she didn’t remember the restaurant’s name, but I was. We’ve been coming here almost 47 years. We are here at least three nights a month. We know the family that owns it. As Kate’s brother, Ken, reminded me yesterday morning, she doesn’t usually remember my name and we have been married 55 years and had our first date a year and a half before then. I shouldn’t expect her to remember the name of the restaurant.
Both the strange behavior and the increasing loss of memory continue to mix with many aspects of her behavior that are perfectly normal. I suppose that is what throws me. Some things are as they always were while others are new. We can’t have things the way they were and are adapting to a new world.