The Sea of Tears
The tragedy continues.
Christmas was not a passing phase but a large step downwards (I knew it in my heart) and the job gets harder and more painful. Rosemarie exists in a world where the past and the present are clearly interchangeable.
She was sobbing almost uncontrollably and over the course of about an hour I established that she was reliving an event when she was at school. She and her best friend were being punished for something that she had no involvement in (although I think her friend was guilty). They were both being punished and as far as I could tell this was a school run by nuns and the punishment was suitably sadistic. The injustice was overwhelming her. She wasn't remembering it - she was living it as if it was still happening.
And she has started calling me 'Dad'. Her father suffered from Alzheimer's and died not long before I met Rosemarie. The whole process was harrowing for her and she still feels the loss now. She seems to remember her father from the days of her childhood when a father can solve all problems and make everything right. And she is calling him, thinking I am him. How can I fill those shoes?
Most of the time she speaks in a voice so quiet that I can barely hear her (not that I am likely to understand her even if I could hear) and loud sounds disturb her greatly. I have always had a loud booming voice and have to make an effort to speak quietly. if I am not careful I speak too loudly for her and she visibly trembles and bursts into tears.
Tears are very much the currency of life right now.
Tears of frustration on all sides. Tears of fear and anger. Tears of physical pain (a very nasty urinary infection that twisted her body}. Tears of despair.
There are times when the fog lifts for her and she faces the reality of what is happening to her. She knows it will only get worse. So do I. We hug each other and I feel her body racked with heart-breaking sobs. I feel the empty, indifferent cruelty of the world as it burns my chest, fills my eyes and runs freely down my cheeks.
Christmas was not a passing phase but a large step downwards (I knew it in my heart) and the job gets harder and more painful. Rosemarie exists in a world where the past and the present are clearly interchangeable.
She was sobbing almost uncontrollably and over the course of about an hour I established that she was reliving an event when she was at school. She and her best friend were being punished for something that she had no involvement in (although I think her friend was guilty). They were both being punished and as far as I could tell this was a school run by nuns and the punishment was suitably sadistic. The injustice was overwhelming her. She wasn't remembering it - she was living it as if it was still happening.
And she has started calling me 'Dad'. Her father suffered from Alzheimer's and died not long before I met Rosemarie. The whole process was harrowing for her and she still feels the loss now. She seems to remember her father from the days of her childhood when a father can solve all problems and make everything right. And she is calling him, thinking I am him. How can I fill those shoes?
Most of the time she speaks in a voice so quiet that I can barely hear her (not that I am likely to understand her even if I could hear) and loud sounds disturb her greatly. I have always had a loud booming voice and have to make an effort to speak quietly. if I am not careful I speak too loudly for her and she visibly trembles and bursts into tears.
Tears are very much the currency of life right now.
Tears of frustration on all sides. Tears of fear and anger. Tears of physical pain (a very nasty urinary infection that twisted her body}. Tears of despair.
There are times when the fog lifts for her and she faces the reality of what is happening to her. She knows it will only get worse. So do I. We hug each other and I feel her body racked with heart-breaking sobs. I feel the empty, indifferent cruelty of the world as it burns my chest, fills my eyes and runs freely down my cheeks.
posted by Other Kosh at 11:17 pm
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