Daniel sat in a chair by the fire. A clock ticked rhythmically in the background. Charlie, his Dachshund, a faithful dog that never left his side, sat by his feet. A television was on, at a loud volume, showing the news. Daniel was looking into space. Age and mobility affected his face and body; he relied on a walking stick’s aid. In the kitchen, his wife Irene made a cup of tea for both of them with a chocolate bourbon treat. Daniel looked confused and strained to engage his brain. There was nothing. He couldn’t remember today, yesterday or years ago. A brain fog that enveloped his mind for this last year, robbing him of joy, laughter and happy times. A thief who entered in the dead of night and swirled through his body. As Charlie looked lovingly up at him, Daniel tried to remember something, if anything, about his life, but there was nothing. A black void secured with a padlock. A padlock that he had lost the key to, and as he scrambled to look for it in his mind, the ghosts of forgetfulness screamed behind him. Daniel was lost, drowning in an abyss of mist and haze that engulfed his brain.
Irene entered the room with the tea tray. It rattled its way to the coffee table like a milk float of yesteryear. She turned down the blaring television with a remote control by Daniel’s side. Lovingly touching her husband’s arm, she placed a cup of tea and several biscuits beside him. He didn’t move or say anything. He just continued to look into space. His wife called his name. He turned to her and just looked through her. Irene knew that she was gradually losing her husband, the man she loved, married and had two children with. They were all grown up now and had fled the nest. I only return for special occasions, birthdays, Easter, and Christmas. A father loved but one who couldn’t remember them. The breadwinner, the person you turned to wash all your troubles away, was replaced by a shell of a man.
As Irene looked at Daniel, a tear trickled down her cheek. Her love had hit a brick wall. It couldn’t reach her husband. He didn’t know who she was anymore. A stranger who lived in the house, and yet he didn’t know who she was or anything about her. The oddly confused utterance, praying this would lead to a recollection, didn’t come. Yet she loved Daniel like when they first met at a local pub. The gentleman was a funny and considerate man who would do anything for her, a knight in shining armour—the love of her life, her rock, her everything.
Tea would not change the situation; it could not stop what had already occurred. It couldn’t wash away the pain, anguish and suffering. Like her husband, Irene was lost, but not to the degree her husband was. He couldn’t function. He had been robbed of his dignity. He mumbled information, but the code was impossible to crack. This was a life that no medicine or science could reverse. The couple were in a well that neither could climb out of, the sides too slippery and wet to scramble to the surface. Yet one day, they would be reunited and she prayed for that day to come sooner rather than later.
