On the way back to Singapore from the volcano trek and the swim with the whale sharks, I spent a few days in Manila for some family downtime and for cuddles from my nephews.
One morning, my Pa went off to seize the day while I vegged at home in pajamas. He came back half an hour later because he forgot his dentures. I was in the loft writing but I hollered hi to him while watching him enter the house and proceed to their bedroom. I was observing if he was miffed that he forgot. You see, for years after the first stroke, he would struggle to remember things and get terribly frustrated when he couldn't recall them, be it the name of someone he knew or a restaurant or even a local celebrity (Thank God our wonderful helpers are up-to-speed on celebrity names!).
I'm happy to report that he seemed unfazed by it. He took it in stride. It came across to me that he had accepted the fact that this was part of life, and given that, he adapts to it, manages it, copes with it the best way he knows how: He simply came back home to get it the minute he realized he left his dentures. No big deal.
I just love that. One day when I too start to forget, I'd like to have that kind of attitude too.
"I am large. I contain multitudes." - Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
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