This story reminded me of my grandmother right before she passed away. There were times when her mind would get fuzzy. One afternoon she startet talking about something none of understood (we understood the words, just not what she was talking about). After a while I asked her where she was, thinking that would clue us in on what she was talking about. She sighed, closed her eyes and said . . .
In a cavern.
In a canyon.
Excavating for a mine
Everybody in the room, including a nurse, joined in song . . .
Lived a miner forty-niner And his daughter, Clementine
Oh, my darlin', oh, my darlin' Oh, my darling Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine
Yeah, it's funny sometimes how a song can connect us with someone whose entire life has been erased by dementia. Years ago, when I was a CNA working my way through college, I was working on the Alzheimer's/dementia floor of a nursing home. This one lady who had end-stage Alzheimer's had not spoken for weeks. She was in her wheelchair in the day room leaning forward with her head down. Then suddenly she sat bolt upright and sang loudly:
I'm an old cowhand from the Rio Grannnnnnd...
Then she fell silent, and resumed her hunched-over position. She never said another word until the day she died a few weeks later.