“Hello, Ford, how are you?” she answered him quietly.
Ford was encouraged, but I could see that she was only being nice to him because he was a child. I could immediately recognize that as much as he might want to be near her, it was not a healthy thing for him.
I came out onto the patio and asked Ford to come inside so we could talk. I took him into my study and closed the door.
“Son, your mother has some problem remembering people, as you can see. The doctors feel it will eventually go away, but for right now, we need to be patient with her.”
“This is your fault,” he spat at me, his eyes flashing. “You took her out on a boat in a storm and she didn’t know how to do anything. It’s your fault she almost drowned. I will never forgive you for this.”
I took a deep breath. “Ford, first of all, I love your mother and would never do anything to harm her. You know that.”
“You didn’t keep her safe. That’s the same thing as hurting her.” His back was rigid and he was being defiant. I tried to figure out whether he truly believed I would let Auggie get hurt, or whether this was a fixation of his rebellion. Either way, he had to be separated from her.
“I won’t argue that point, son. You’re right in that it is always my responsibility to keep those I love and depend on me safe. That includes you. The difference is that this was an accident and those I have no control over. But what I do have control over is how many people I will let get hurt. That includes you. Your mother needs time to recover and to remember. She’s still in there, but it will take time for that to happen.”
“What if it never happens? What if my mother is gone forever?” he rasped and began to cry. I hurried toward him, and he put his face against my chest and cried heartbreakenly hoarse sobs.
“Son, I can’t make any promises and I won’t insult you by treating you as a child. Not in this case. You’re facing a man’s kind of hurt and there’s nothing I can do about that. I want you to go back to school this afternoon, get back to your life. Give your mother the time she needs to heal completely. If it happens that she never remembers, then we’ll give her new memories beginning today. If, on the other hand, she gets it back, she will still know that you are where you need to be. She won’t feel guilty for having you put your life on hold.”
He stopped crying and straightened up, wiping his eyes. He nodded. He understood. “I’ll have Bernie drive you back. Go and tell your mother goodbye and pack up your things. I promise I won’t travel out of town and will stay here and look after her. I’ll get the best doctors and do everything they say to do. We’ll get her back, Ford. I give you my word that I’ll do my best to get her back.”
He gave me the quickest hug allowed for a child who is becoming a man. Then he was gone.
***
I hired a nursing staff but requested that they impact the household in the least hospital-looking way. I asked that they wear casual clothing, keep medical trappings in one of the guest rooms and use first names when talking with Auggie. She really had no idea who was family and who wasn’t, so why not give her the best foundation of “belonging” I could manage?
I transferred my business world to my study at home. I wanted to stay close by without smothering her. She had so much to absorb. It only seemed to be the personal memories that she’d lost. She still walked and spoke as she always had, although her personality was blander. I suspected that was due to the lack of memories that colored everything we do and who we are. At the same time, she was building new memories and they were blending in to create a new person. The sights and scents of the farm held particular pleasure for her.
Although this really wasn’t within my field, I began researching it and spoke to colleagues who gave me referrals. Brain injuries were, if anything, unpredictable. Each patient was unique in how it affected their abilities. There was no magic pill or treatment that guaranteed anything beyond what you had from that day forward. The overwhelming opinion seemed to be to give her time. So, we began a life that resembled a puzzle. From my vantage, I had my wife, except she didn’t respond to me as a wife, but simply as a woman.
So began our new routine. With Ford back at school and me at work in my study, Auggie was left to a life where strangers became her friends. Betsy asked her help in doing some routine cooking. It was her attempt to try and trigger the memories to come back. We all had our individual theories and used different approaches.
Mine was love. While I had to restrain myself, I gradually re-acquainted her with the idea that I was her husband and that my greatest pleasure in life was to spend time with her. I asked her opinions on different business matters, and these she had no problem giving. However, when I touched her hand while it lay on my desk, I could tell she wanted to pull away, and it took abject concentration for her to let it lie. As the days passed, I tried this gentle physicality more and more often. She resisted less and the day finally came when she placed her hand over mine. I wanted to rejoice, to scream and hug her. Instead, I held my hand still and celebrated internally that we were making some headway.
Ford called three times a week and spoke to Auggie, telling her what was going on at school. He shared his triumphs when he scored well on a test and asked for her nurturing when he did poorly. She offered these, but more as a stranger and less like a mother. I know it hurt him, but in his own way he was trying to trigger the return of the person she had been.
Auggie’s dad visited regularly and he would encourage her to sit out on the patio as he talked about old times, especially things they’d shared together. She laughed at the appropriate times when he told of funny escapades and eventually he got around to talking about her mother, although in a kind voice. She seemed unmoved.
It was fall and becoming too cool to sit outdoors so I ordered outdoor heating radiators. She seemed at her best when in the fresh air. Walter had come over and they were enjoying hot cider spiced with cinnamon and a platter of fresh cookies from the oven. I had been drawn from my study by the scents and joined them.
“Auggie, I remember the first time you climbed up on Carlos,” Walter was saying.
Auggie started as though an electric shot had gone through her. Walter stopped instantly and I put my hand up to keep him quiet.
“Auggie, do you remember Carlos?” I asked in a gentle voice and we held our breath. Her profile had been turned toward us and now she turned away completely. It was subtle at first, but her shoulders began to quiver and then shook, hard. She turned to look at me and tears were streaming out of her eyes and down the pink sweatshirt she was wearing.
She nodded.