I’m confounded by what sticks and what doesn’t when it comes to my parents memory. Some days my mom brings up a specific detail from recent events (that I believe to be true as well) and other days it’s my dad’s turn to be the memory master.
For six months, since they lost their licenses and then the cars, I have visited my parents nearly every Sunday to join them for brunch at their retirement community. It’s always the same, with a few minor tweaks to the meat on the carving station.
Each Sunday, my mom will explain how we get food as if we are first time guests. On our last trip, my dad got lost on the way to the dessert bar. We were sitting right next to main buffet gallery and my mom could see my dad had forgotten why he is standing up and what he’s looking for.
I jump up and join him. I tell him it was nice that he was looking around for extra napkins for mom, then invite him join me on visit to the desert bar. We both go for the eclairs today. Filled.