"Hamakom yinachem otah," I told my father over the phone. "I love you and I'm thinking about you and I miss Bubby, too. Did he hear me?" I asked my mother when she put the phone back to her ear.
"He heard you, but oh no...he's shaking his head and looks upset. Hon, do you remember that you lost your mother? She died on Shabbas. She went peacefully. She was 91."
My mother has to remind my father several times a day that his mother just died, and each time he looks confused and hurt that no one told him and gets sad about her passing all over again. Something happened to him this last time in the hopsital, something terrible happened inside his head.
I never heard of MS doing that to someone, playing tricks on the mind in such a horrible way, but then again, Outdoorsman pointed out that most people in my father's condition are not still here with us. The unbelievable care that my mother takes of my father is why is is still alive. There were so many close calls, and they all ended in relief because of her. She loves life, and she loves him.
On a cheerier note, because my father's condition plus the fact that I might as well convert to Islam since my kids wake me up before the first prayer at 5:15 and I am grumpy and tired NEEDS a cheerier note, I sent something in to a magazine, thanks to all of your encouragement! I'll let you know what happens. Any great ideas for a pen name?