I called Lana, my friend with Alzheimer's tonight. She was overjoyed as always to hear my voice. And said she adored a card that I had sent her and showed it to everyone and described everything on it to me.
She sounded so alert and close to her old self.
She said she had felt good enough to go back to her old house and to have her car back in her life as driving was her passion. And she explained to her son that her leg was now back to normal, and she was back to normal, so time to go home, right?
She quotes their entire conversation verbatim to me, "Mum," he said to her, "I'm going to be completely honest with you. The problem hasn't been really about your leg. The problem has been your short term memory vanishing."
And on the phone to me she takes an enormous breath and stays silent.
"And," she said, "I had to accept that. I had to absorb that."
And then he said to her, "You will not be leaving here, Mum. This is where you are safe and have no worries."
"And Mum," he added, "I want you to know that as your light dims, my light will shine brighter to brighten up your darkness."
And we both cried.
I still am incredibly moved by these words, the courage and honesty and love behind them. And that they stayed with her so she could repeat them to me.
