Putting the photos back in the album

It's not always like this.

Arriving late evening, putting tomorrow's evening meal in the fridge ready for Homecare to heat.

Asking her, "so you're about to get ready for bed?"
And she's watching out the window, scanning the path - "I just need to get the wee one in and ready for his bed."
Remembering "Contented Dementia" - do I humour her? - remembering the CPN's advice - do I 'gently reorientate' her?
I want her to get ready for bed.
Saying her name, "remember that it's just you here - he's all grown up, and married to me, and he's away out at a meeting."
And she looks at me, panic and puzzlement in her eyes, "I wasn't thinking of him, I was thinking of my own wee boy..." Scanning my face now, looking for reassurance.
Not gentle enough then.
Remembering Oliver James' photo album with the missing photographs, remembering the photo life story we put together on the CPN's advice.
Explaining, "yes, he was your wee boy. And you looked after him beautifully, and took care of him, and took him on holidays to Millport. And he got bigger and went off to university and grew into a lovely man, and I married him and now he's my husband."
And she listens to the story and her face relaxes and she throws her head back and laughs such a happy, relieved laugh, her eyes dancing, "Oh, that's good!! So, it's just me, then? Well, I'll just get ready for bed."

in the face of

Love - in the face of great difficulty we'll hope for love. It's early days - we have an idea of the hard times ahead - but love in the face of great difficulty has won for us so often before.

Love in her face, shining and appreciative, may well go. But loving her always, just as she is, that's what we'll ask for.

Love - patient, kind, enduring all things, hoping all things, never running out, always protecting, never giving up. God is love, an infinite resource for our loving.

So, not wishy washy soppy love, but powerful love with muscles and grit and oomph.
Love - like a great big messy custard pie - in the face of dementia.

LUDO

She sat detached and quiet after Sunday lunch, ready, as often, to slip into a nap. Brightening, at the suggestion of Ludo. Watching the board being set up. Rolling the dice. Letting a grand daughter move her counter - but watching, concentrated, leaning forward, smiling, laughing, engaged for the length of the whole game i.e. quite unlike her usual these days.
So - have just ordered Snakes and Ladders.
Wondering about taking a small tabletop game with us when we go out for coffee, for the times that conversation gets too difficult. Any suggestions?