My sister and brother are visiting my parents this week while I’m away. Over the next few days, I’m retelling their stories. This one is from my sister that happened prior to their visit this week.
Mom calls me to ask for my mailing address. This will be the third time in two months that she has called to ask my mailing address because the letter they sent was returned. We moved from the home they keep mailing to over eleven years ago.
The last time I visited I hunted down all the address books I could find and scratched out the old listing. It’s still lurking in one of their homes somewhere.
I walk mom through the move and after I finish the story, she yells for dad to come over and hear the story too. I figure she’s trying to make sure one of them will remember it next time – only we know they both don’t have short-term memory so this is likely to happen again … and again.
As they try to continue to manage as their memory and coping skills deteriorate, I can only imagine them living in the movie Groundhog Day; however, in this version, they aren’t improving on themselves each day and I don’t think there will be a happy ending. Discouraged.