It's been a hard day's night

Last night I had a breakdown. An emotional breakdown. 

It was a typical Sunday Funday with friends. We hung out in the pool, sipped on Aperol Spritz, laughed and lounged. As we were gearing up for family dinner, my Mom facetimed me. I love being able to see her even though I can't touch her. Dumb Coronavirus. I noticed she was quieter than usual, and seemed upset. Once I asked her what was wrong she started huffing and puffing. She was annoyed that my Dad wasn't home. 

My chest felt heavy. Today is the day. The day I have to remind my Mom that Dad passed away (nearly 10 years now). 

I tried the usual deflection tactics. I asked about her day, what she was wearing, how was dinner, what'd you eat. Then out of nowhere she started crying, and I mean sobbing. It shook me. 

"Dad is with that woman."

"What woman?"

"That older mexican woman. The skinny one."

"Mom, Dad isn't with any other woman. He loves you. But you know, he's gone."

"He hasn't come home the last few nights. He's with her. I made him dinner and he didn't even eat it."

"Mom, Daddy is in Heaven, remember?"

"I know, but he forgot to pick me up. He just left me here and he's with that woman."

"Mom, Dad's dead. He's been dead for 10 years. Remember his funeral? We buried him! He's gone!"

"I just cant sleep."

By this time, my husband comes out to look for me, and I am quite clearly choking back tears. 

"Mom, Paul just got here, do you wanna say Hi?"

"Oh yeah, Hi Paul."

...

While he is having a sweet chat with mom, I am off to the side feeling so sick. Emotionally and physically sick. After a bit, mom says she has to go, we all say our goodbyes, and almost as quickly as I hit the red end call button I burst into tears. My legs were spaghetti, and I just wanted to fall to the floor and sink through. 

I knew this day would come. The day I have to remind my mom that the love of her life, who seems very much real and alive in her world, had passed away nearly a decade ago. I just didn't think it would be so soon that she wouldn't remember. 

It was another unpleasant reminder that this disease knows no limits or boundaries. It doesn't care that her failing memory cuts me deep, and causes me the recurring pain on knowing she doesn't remember or understand that Dad did not leave her willingly. He was called Home by our Heavenly Father, where she will one day join him. I hope that day doesn't come too soon.