I clearly gave Maureen a lovely memory earlier this morning. She was sleeping in the chair and stirred as I came into the room and said: ‘it’s GrandDad’ and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I have often heard her speak so well of her grandparents so this case of mistaken identity didn’t worry me and reminded me of this song:
I remember a West Indian friend of mine once saying: ‘I don’t care what they call me as long as they don’t call me late for dinner’. As Maureen’s dementia progresses I don’t worry who she thinks I am as long as she feels safe in my company.