Every day the elder brought flowers to his wife who lost her memory, because love does not give up. Bashny.Net

Not everyone has the choice to love or be loved. On the one hand, being loved is nice, especially when you can love in return. And this is what happens when you're loved and you can't even express gratitude because you don't remember who you are. Memory is one of the jewels whose value you learn only by losing it.



My father was a little over seventy when he slowly began to forget what he knew perfectly. “I hide the meanings of the words of some,” he said sometimes, sighing. It is sad when your loved one tries to tell you something and can not find the right phrases. It is even more difficult when you leave the room in the morning and he asks confusedly, “Who are you and why am I here?”

Alzheimer’s disease has many warning bells, but unfortunately, it is not possible to fully prepare or prevent memory loss. You can extend the period when a person suffering from this ailment can serve himself. And give him the eternal right to be loved.



I work near a recreation park and often walk in it on the way home. Our park is very beautiful and cozy, it has many alleys and paths, ready to hide from the bustle of the city everyone. Every time I walk, I meet a strange but very touching couple. The man already knows life well, and his companion has long earned the honorary title of “grandmother”.



Recently, we celebrated Dog Day at work and were allowed to take pets with us. I went home with Agath. He's a long-haired chihuahua, and it's as cute as possible, especially for compassionate grandmothers. So, as I learned, Tamara and Peter love little dogs. We talked, Toma is a very nice woman, but she asks a lot of questions. And as if flirting with his elderly, but no less elegant companion.



Peter gently looked at Tamara playing with Agath. I noticed that both old men had rings in their arms. It became interesting that they help to maintain a spark in the relationship. But I did not dare to ask if it was a public game at all, and at home all the magic is dispelled. Suddenly Tamara froze: Oh, what a cute dog... Where did you come from? At first, I was taken aback, and then I realized that the woman had simply forgotten about our meeting, about a conversation that had taken place literally 10 minutes ago.



Peter noticed my look and explained: “My wife has Alzheimer’s disease, she often forgets a lot, don’t worry, this is the norm for us.” He repeated the information for Tamara. The lady smiled at me nicely and said: “Peter is in a hurry, I am not his wife, we only met this morning, he conquered me with a bouquet of hydrangea.” I love these flowers, as he guessed, I don’t mind.”



Peter sighed, 50 years ago I brought her a bouquet of hydrangeas for the first time. Then Toma told me that these are the best flowers in the world. So in the summer I try to buy her bouquets as often as possible. I want to please my beloved. I remember everything.



I went home and thought how hard it was to know that your loved one had forgotten you, and still try to maintain a relationship with him. I think Peter understood how privileged it is to be able to choose between loving and being loved. Wise old man. We have a lot to learn from him. Share your thoughts with us about the story you read. We're waiting.