Beverley Clarkson and her brother Norman.
He doesn’t recognize me. I can tell from his eyes, like those of a child trying to put the pieces together. I am saddened by this knowledge, but in good spirits, I talk to him.
“It’s Beverley, your sister,” I say smiling.
“Bev?” He questions with a slight smile, head tilted, a glimmer in his eyes as he searches my face for clues.
That morning, he was struggling with who I am. This memory has escaped him. When he sees Clarence, my husband, he brightens – happy now, he calls him by name, “Clarence!” My husband extends a hand to him. They laugh, while Clarence bends over to hug him, my brother remembering almost sixty years of humor with his brother-in-law. I am glad he remembers somebody in our lives. We’ve been married 55 years. The two men were born the same year, a month apart. My brother can’t sit up comfortably, so Clarence and the nurse help him. I wasn’t sure if it was arthritis or another aspect of his dementia, where he can’t remember how to walk, while losing muscle memory.
But he doesn’t remember anyone else – not his son, wife, grandchildren, nieces, siblings, except for our older brother, Orlando, who died in 1999. When he asks about Orlando that morning, I said gently, “He passed away.”
Looking sternly, like he wants to reprimand me, he says, “What do you mean he passed away? No one told me!” Agitated, muscles in his face and neck tightens, eyes bright with recognition!
“Norman, you were there,” I say with all the tenderness I can muster.
I don’t know how to deal with Norman’s loss. If I don’t answer, he’ll think I’m part of the conspiracy leaving him out of everything important in his life. We have had this conversation many times, and my poor brother relives Orlando’s death again and again. My heart pains for him, as sorrow registers in his face, knowing he has no way of coping. His emotions propel like a pot of boiling rice, convulsing over and into the crevices of the stove. So much clean up, but I don’t have the appropriate utensils. I don’t know that anyone has.
Yes, Norman, “I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places…”.
