Every day, my husband looks at me and asks, “Dear, who are you?” Me, the woman he has lived with for 30 years. Every time I hear that question, I feel like my heart breaks a hundred times. Still, I tell him it’s okay, say my name again, and hold his hand.
A few days ago, I discovered an old photo album in the attic. It was an album from my husband’s belongings. Turning the dusty pages, I saw our wedding photo—us in our 20s, in our prime. With a faint hope, I showed the picture to my husband. But he just stared blankly, asking, “Who are these people?” My hope shattered into pieces.
I was disappointed, but I couldn’t give up. The next day, I pulled out a picture of a ‘fall foliage trip’ tucked deep in the album. It was a photo from 30 years ago, capturing our most intense moment of happiness, where my husband was carrying me and smiling brightly. As he looked at it, his eyes flickered, and for a fleeting second, a faint smile spread across his lips. It only lasted a single second, but I realized something profound.
Even if dementia steals the memories and the names of the present, the most powerful ‘feeling of love’ remains deep within his soul. Even if he has forgotten me, he hasn’t forgotten the ’emotional record’ of the happiness we created together.
To our senior readers, stay strong. There is still a path for us to communicate. Take out an old photo album or a treasured item today, and try to find those beautiful memories woven with love again. In them, we will discover true hope that transcends dementia.
Click here to read the Korean version of this story.
© 2025 SilverLife. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized reproduction and theft are prohibited.
SilverLife 
댓글 남기기