Writing Letters to Dad

My mom appears to be clearer today.  She hasn't seen my dad or any other imaginary visitor today.   She asks if I have seen anyone, she forgets that I can't see what she sees.

Coconut Oil appears to be working for my mom, just like it worked for Dr. Newport's husband... my mom's cognition is good.

Last night after dinner, my mom and I replied to my dad's email.  She had sat for a few days, trying to write.  She practiced her handwriting, an activity that kept her occupied and focused for a good long time.

Before we sat to write to dad, my mom held up the heating pad and asked me to heat it in the microwave.  I heated it and handed it over to her.  I told her that we'd write the note to dad after she sat with the heating pad.

I went and had a glass of wine.

In a happy state of mind, my mom and I sat together and I read dad's last note to her.  I began to ask her questions to get her to say what was on her mind.  Writing her thoughts for a few days did help, she was pretty clear with what she wanted to say once she got on the topic.

It's during our writing a note to dad that I learned what my mom did with the heating pad.  She had me heat it for MY DEAD BROTHER ED!  I wanted to laugh, but I didn't.  Inside I was busting a gut, holding in the laugh, something that is very difficult for me.

Later, after we sent Dad his letter, I tucked my mom in for the night.  She said to me, "that was fun tonight, good night dear."

"Good night Ma, see you in the morning" I said to her as I spotted the heating pad resting on the chair where my mom believes my brother was sitting with a backache.