Revisiting history

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Ray complained to me, why is there a password file and an old password file? Why is there an old family address list? Why is there is there an old friend list? Such files take up a few kilobytes of storage, virtually nothing. No harm in keeping them. To my surprise, I came across the phone number, name and address of a guy I had not seen for twenty odd years, which halted for reasons in 2004 when he Ray had a falling out. 

I checked the dead person newspaper electric online system. No death notice for him, but should I phone him? He would be so old. Yeah, well, I did call him. We spoke for an hour and of course I told him about Ray's death. I was surprised that he had forgotten a few things, but it had been twenty years.

We arranged to meet at his place on Tuesday. I had forgotten I was having a skin cancer biopsy on my skull that day but the times didn't conflict. I caught a tram to his place. He remembered me, kind of. He couldn't remember me by looks. I haven't aged a bit since 2004, so that was surprising.  This was strange, we had known each other for such a long time. He asked me how many times we had met and I replied about 100 times (yes, you can read something into that). Slowly he remembered me. This was doing my head in. What is wrong with him? It dawned on me that he had dementia. 

After talking for about two hours, and me repeatedly answering his same questions, with me trying to talk to him about things in the past, I eventually said goodbye, although he wanted me stay longer. I could describe the meeting as successful, but it was rather sad. 

On the whole, I really wish I'd left the past where it was. His self described 'memory problems' are quite bad but I know he has neighbours and a couple of close friends to look after him. In the kitchen there was a banana skin on a bench. At about 5pm, he looked at it and said, This is how I know I had breakfast this morning as I have banana on my cereal. I know him from old. He stays up very late and rises very late. Breakfast was probably about noon. 

And at this point of writing this the same evening, published a few days over a week later, I've collapsed into a crying and sobbing mess. I miss my Ray so much. I hate that he no longer sees life and what will happen. He has missed Harper's second birthday and will miss Lukey's fifth, then in a few days Jo's 17th. Ray always put glitter in birthday cards and people learnt to open their cards with great care, but a spillage of glitter was inevitable. That was his thing and I won't continue his tradition. Ray always looked so forward to things. I cried for Ray, for myself and the person I knew who now has dementia. 

A bit later I called Ray's favourite English sister and she consoled me somewhat and I managed to get a grip on my emotions. I woke the next morning to a lovely poem she sent to me. 

I remembered when Mother's partner died. My grandmother's husband. I remember when the husband of Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey died. I remember the husband of Ursula of Frikos World dying. Those strong and brave women survived the loss and so will I.