"Hey, Jude"

Trying to figure out how my dad's mind operates at this stage in his dementia is a bit of a mystery. When I am out running an errand I am Mary to him, his wife who is now living in Oregon close to her children. He will ask my husband or my son, "where is Mary?" Or "When will Mary be home?" When I am around the house I am Jude, like in the Beatles song "Hey Jude," his daughter.

I am obviously the hub of his life; his source of security, his source of direction, his meal provider, his house keeper, his friend. Such a strange role reversal from the days when he was the hub of my life, my dad, my daddy, the one who called me June Bug, whose knee I sat on, who tucked me in at night and told me it was OK when I couldn't sleep.

Fortunately his memory still embraces the people in his life both present and past. I can bring up a name and recollection is there. Sometimes I'm not sure if he has it all sorted out especially newer additions to the family circle. He knows my grandsons, Bret's sons because he sees them often. My nephew, Dusty who lives in California is a new father to an adorable little boy, Ryder. Pop enjoys hearing stories about Ryder but he has to be reminded who he is and whom he belongs to. New acquaintances/friends definitely are new to him every time he sees them. New information does not sink in quickly and much repetition must occur before it becomes, if ever, embedded in his mind.

Often when I leave the room and return I hear, "Hi, Jude. Welcome back. I missed you!" He thinks I've been out of the house and just returned home. In the morning the familiar phrase is, "Hi. How'd you sleep?" I leave the room and come back and I hear, "Hi, how'd you sleep?" This may go on until I have changed out of my jammies and into my day wear.

So glad he at least remembers me.