Fading out in Fog

Spring

It’s 7 in the morning. Sunlight was peeking through the window. I got up and reached the balcony to get a view of the lake. A wave of fresh air swept through the room. It was an unusual spring morning with shimmering sunlight, warm breeze, birds fluttering and chirping, the humming sound of lake water caressing the lakeshore.

I recently moved to this retirement community. Before retiring from University, I spent a majority of my savings to buy this house so that I could live the rest of my life here. It was located in an infamous hilltop, tucked in serene and enchanting trees, amidst some stunning floral plants. The lake was just a stone’s throw away from my house. I jog everyday by the lakeside and see her standing by the lakeshore, feeding the birds. It was an usual routine for her. Today I don’t see her.

I remember the day I first met her in the community gathering, just about a week after I arrived here. As a newcomer, I was introduced to the community group during a casual luncheon. Most of them were old couples, few of them were single who lost their spouse and living there. During lunch, I met and interacted with most people except her. I saw her talking to some guy and I was waiting. After she finished talking, she casually turned towards me. I was glad that she looked at me and I smiled at her. She smiled back reluctantly.

As soon as we approached and started talking, I figured she was disinterested as she spoke few words wearing a lifeless expression. She excused herself during the conversation and expressed that she had to rush to catch up with some work. I said I was glad to meet her and thanked her. She thanked me back and left in a hurry.

I knew she was a strong woman. She looked young and the men in the community did flirt with her. I guessed she didn’t want to encourage anyone by smiling and being cordial. I understood that she wanted to intensely guard her privacy and preferred barriers existed between her and other men, rather strangers like me. I was hesitant to break those barriers. Her house was few meters away from mine. Despite the fact that we lived close by, our life paths never crossed until one fine summer evening.

Summer

It was drizzling and raindrops were racing down the windshield. I drove to the city for some work and was returning to my residence. My car was climbing uphill through the hairpin bends. As I reached a longer, straighter, wider road, I noticed that a car was parked on the opposite sidewalk and my neighbourhood lady was sitting inside the car looked puzzled and helpless. I was intrigued and slowed down my car. I pulled over and stepped out of my car to check if she needed any help.

She didn’t recognize me initially, but I introduced myself. She was glad someone came to her rescue. Her car broke down due to flat tyre and the spare tyre also didn’t have optimum pressure level. I offered to help, but she was not keen. Left with no options, she accepted. I took over the situation, pulled a portable air pump from my car trunk and filled the spare tyre with optimum pressure. I removed the faulty tyre and fixed a new one. After the fix, I offer to drive her back to her residence as it was late evening. She thanked me for the timely help. After she started, I followed her, and we reached her residence.

She invited me in and offered me coffee which I couldn’t resist.That’s how we started. As we shared our stories and life anecdotes, we both could relate to each other. I lost my wife 10 years back and I lived alone. She was grieving the death of her daughter and her husband had passed away 15 years ago. She had no one with her.

We became good friends. We started meeting frequently and went out for barbeque nights, drama, music concerts. She loved cooking and had great aesthetic sense. She invited me for lunch and dinner at her place. Sometimes we cooked together. We indulged in activities that brought us closer and provided us opportunities to spend more time.We got really close but decided not to move in together or marry. We decided to live separately.

She drafted her own terms and conditions. We agreed we didn’t want to marriage again. She liked to be independent. I could visit her during evening and leave by night. We were both clear that we needed our own space, our private time, and we didn’t want to be together for 24 hours. Our plan was to take care of each other till we could do it. We willingly supported each other during sickness and medical emergencies but only to some extent. We decided to avoid emotional, physical, financial risks associated with it.

Fall

One day, during dinner I noticed something strange about her. She was murmuring to herself, trying to remember names, events, or recent conversations. She exhibited signs of depression, apathy, and was struggling to complete regular tasks.

A few days later, she lashed out at me for no reason and her behaviour was stranger than before. We visited the doctor, and she was diagnosed of dementia. It was devastating. Our life turned upside down and things took on a sudden shimmer. After that, I took care of her full time as she slowly forgot our precious memories together and struggled to remember names.

She loved to cook. So, I labelled all the essential things in the kitchen. Mugs, plates, bowls, jars everything had labels, just to keep her as independent as possible. I labelled all her essential things in cupboards, dressing table, wardrobes, bathrooms so that she can remember the names. As we spent considerable good amount of time together, I labelled the names of the people in her photo albums. I prepared a charter for her daily activities and kept important phone numbers printed and stuck on every room wall.

We used to take a long walk by the lakeside, to engage in a talk and to reminisce her past life and memories. To add more reality to her life I frequently invited our community friends home. As this journey wasn’t possible all by ourselves, we took help from friends, neighbours and formed a support group.

Winter

I was not the same person I used to be. I decided to stand with her, by her side. The person I decided to be with for the rest of my life no longer remembered my name. I had to remind her every time.

As the situation worsened, I decided to put her in a Nursing home where they took care of people with such issues. This ensured she got good medical care, a positive and comfortable environment for her to regain her strength. Now I am in half agony and half hope.

To seek a way out for us to be together, I visit her every day. People in the nursing home ask me why I visit every day when she doesn’t remember me at all. I tell them it doesn’t matter if she remembers me or not. I remember her. I know her. That’s all that matters. We are strangers again. And I continue to move forward with her memories.