In 500... (or less)

The Body Remains

The distress was evident from the look on her face. Nothing was going to calm Trudy down.

"I told you to stop letting that old man into see me!" she bellowed for all of the residents to hear. Some lowered their heads, others were too far gone to acknowledge the commotion.

I tried my best to reason with her.

"Harry is the only person who comes to see you every day," I explained. "Don't you look forward to his visits?"

She looked at the old man standing before her. Harry was her husband, but not the one she remembered. To Trudy, Harry was a dashing, handsome man. He was not an old geezer with his pants pulled up too high, hobbling in with his cane.

"That isn't Harry," Trudy snipped. "It's Harry's father, Wilbur."

I grimaced, glancing over to Harry. He only nodded.

"It's ok, Trudy," he said. "Maybe tomorrow." I walked him to the door.

"Some days are better than others, I guess," he said.

"It's a challenging disease for everyone." He already knew that. 

Maybe it was the heartbreak, or maybe he was just too old and fragile. Harry passed away that evening. Trudy didn't complain when her husband did not visit the next day, or the day after.

We tried to explain to her daughter that it was not a good idea to take her to the funeral. Tracy rarely visited her mother, and was a complete stranger as far as Trudy was concerned. She grew irritable as Tracy tried to gently remind her that she was in fact her daughter.

"I don't know how you got Tracy to tell you all of these things," Trudy griped. "Those are private memories."

When we got to the chapel, Trudy was agitated as she looked around for Harry.

"I can't believe Harry would miss his father's funeral."

"Mom." Tracy reached out for Trudy's hand, only to have the old woman recoil in disgust.

"Don't call me that!"

I was relieved when it was all over. Trudy had a good day, for the most part. Sometimes getting through the day without an outburst of frustration was its own small miracle.

Her daughter left without bothering to tell her mother goodbye. It's hard to make family members understand sometimes. Tracy couldn't hide her frustration any longer, so it was probably for the best that she left without ceremony. It was certainly easier on us and Trudy.

The phone rang at 6 a.m., just as I was rousing myself to get ready for work.

"She's demanding to see you."

I rushed in as quickly as I could. I found Trudy looking at her church directory from a few years prior, when she first was diagnosed and brought here.

She looked up, with big tears in her eyes. Not the daily tears of frustration, these were different.

"Mark." I wasn't aware she even knew my name. She held out the book for me to look at.

"That old man was Harry."