All is well in our camp.
Old B did not want to get out of the bus for me the other night, nothing would do, he just did not want to budge.
Last week Bobby had to lift him out of the bus. I was not going to go that route.
The bus driver cajoled , I promised milk and cookies (his fave) , still nothing.
Then I had a flash :Your paintings are in there , Bob!
That did it, he quickly got out of his seat.
Came in and walked around.
He did not seem to know where he was and stood in front of his work , smiled and stood up to drink his milk. Did not touch the cookies and was ready to go back on the bus.
I knew that was going to happen so I
had locked the door, hid the key.
It took him about 2 hours before he started to find the bedroom and know that this is where he slept.
The most lasting memory now is his work. His paintings but he also starts to claim a Mary Cassat copy as his work.
Does it all get easier? Not on your life.
You still have that little doubt inside which tells you "this is for real, he really does not know anything anymore".