THE DEMENTIA TALKS, A BRIDGE TO REALITY:
“…And somehow stop this endless fight,
Just a chance that maybe we’ll find better days…”
~~Better Days~~ The Goo Goo Dolls

Monday’s Talk 20 revealed a lot of folks I know are rowing their boat on the same dementia infested waters. Too many like me, dwelling on moments or memories, better days, that aren’t coming back.

Today, Thursday, I made an unplanned but intentional midweek visit to my mom. It was a visit to find out where she’s living. Not the structure but the time & place where her reality resides. My gut told me everything after age 30 was off the table. I was close.

I knew from talks that she likely was in her hometown, the town she left college for, the town she married in & had me & my sister in. The town is Fairfield, Alabama. I took to the streets via the internet & took screenshots of two places to test my theory, our old church & a pedestrian bridge.

I started with the bridge. She crossed over Valley Road on it as she walked to high school. Mom didn’t recognize it at first because the high school building of her youth that sat by the bridge met the wrecking ball. She recalled Valley Road & the quest for not better days but days that were better was on.

I asked her if she remembered anyone from her days at Fairfield High. She talked faster than I could write. Melford (stick around to the end if you bow at the RTR Saturday altar for a Melford story). Margie Lynn. Ron. Ronald. Frankie. Charlie. Joan the Homecoming Queen. Sam. Sherrell. Charles. Henryetta (yes with a Y). Don, her high school beau. There were others but I couldn’t keep up.

When we moved mom we brought her old yearbooks, “ The Crucible”. I opened her 1959 senior copy to the class pictures. Some I had to point to, others she beat me to.

Her recall, almost 100%. On the faculty yearbook pages, she recognized Coach Lutz & her English teacher Mrs. Kendrick. I wish she hadn’t seen her. Mrs. Kendrick was my kindergarten teacher & mom didn’t remember that. And every time we stopped on a page with Don she said, “I dated him” or “I think we dated” or “did I date him?” Always past tense, which meant my dad might still be in her mind.

I know where my mom’s reality lives now. Somewhere between her senior year of 1959 & my kindergarten year of 1968. Next Monday, we’ll travel a few blocks down Valley Road. We’ll hang a right close to the Episcopal Church pass between the city park on our left & the Methodists on our right up to the Post Office & left on Carnegie Avenue. We’ll run parallel to the 1st base line of the big field on the left & find our church & its 6 grand columns across its front & the stairs that my mom & dad sprinted down as newlyweds on the right.

I hope we find my dad. I’d hate to think that 52 years & 3 months of marriage have been lost but it’s a journey worth taking. Worth taking because today, in my mom’s reality, we found a better day. If we had gotten lost, it would’ve been okay. I found a bridge that could get us home…go find your bridge.

Now, the Melford story. His name was Melford Espey. He & my mom went to school together K thru 12. When we cleaned out my mom’s house, we found a note he wrote asking my mom to the 7th grade dance. We’ll never know the answer. After graduation, Melford found his way to Tuscaloosa & while there he worked with a pretty fair football coach nicknamed “Bear” developing a sideline mascot for the Crimson Tide. That mascot is Big Al & Melford was the first one to don the suit. Per my dad, the only instruction Melford received from Coach Bryant was, “don’t embarrass me or us”. As he retired from the University, I guess the old Fairfield boy did okay.