If I close my eyes now, I can still feel her hand stroking my hair. She was my favourite person in that nursing home in Essex, just outside London. How long has it been when I left my job there and moved to London? That was in 2001, and it took me a couple of years after to go back for a short visit.
At that time in her early 90's, she then had dementia, which she didn't have when I was still there. Her room full of books, she had one of the best views, overlooking the home's pond at the back garden. Her demeanour was very strict then, and the staff were hesitant to go inside her room, let alone stay for a "quick chat". If they can help it, they wouldn't. Her demeanour was just that. Take it or leave it. BUT SHE WAS LOVELY TO ME.
Though I might have forgotten a lot of our conversations, I remember going in and out of her room as my job allow on a day shift, she usually went to bed early. I know for a fact that she longed for company. She have had a brother and a cousin who were coming to see her, but oh so infrequently! In a couple of years that I was there, she probably was taken out by her brother, like once a month? This even sounds more than it was. Perhaps.
Struggling for more words to describe her, I can see her clearly in my mind, the way she was. Staff had to follow her routine to a T, most especially her clothes for the day. Her medicines taken, one at a time, even those so tiny ones. But she was lonely. Her love story was heart-breaking to say the least. The love of her life didn't come back to UK after the war, that's almost a lifetime of having a broken heart, with only her books and a radio on day in, day out.
As I rushed to see her that day, she called my name. I've only learned of her dementia when we were leaving, accordingly, she didn't know the staff. Nor remember them. She have had dementia for a couple of years. It amazed them to see how she could remember me.
I have forgotten if we even said a word to each other, but I do remember kneeling at her feet and hugging her lap. No words, just grateful and glad to have seen each other and be together at that moment. I don't recall on how long we were in that position...her stroking my hair. She looked so sad and I could understand why. In that moment, we just knew it would be the last time we'll see each other. Deep inside we knew. Her heart wasn't well, she could leave anytime.
This realisation replaced whatever tiny gladness I have had on seeing her, it was replaced by pain and sadness and resignation. And both of us knew. There was no other choice but to accept the fact that she wouldn't last long. The difference was that, our age gap didn't matter. For when two souls speak to each other, there's no need for words. She passed away I think in less than a year.
