Daisy, Daisy...

Bubby (my grandmother) and Zaidy (my grandfather) are visiting for Passover from Montreal. They are 83 and 81 respectively and are really slowing down.

Bubby was born with a dislocated hip in the early twentieth century and had a childhood of casts leaving her with one leg shorter than the other. To compensate for this she always had one platform shoe and one regular shoe (specially made and matching; not one pink and one sneaker or anything). She's always been slow but in the last few years you can really see the changes. Not only is her walking difficult, but her mind is going. She was diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimers a few years ago but it has always seemed to be staying in the early stages until this visit. She asks what day it is, what month it is, where we're going for dinner again and again during the drive to the restaurant, and the list goes on.

Today in the car my mother, myself, and my grandmother were squashed in the backseat trying to come up with things Bubby likes. I was asking "Do you like pizza?" "Do you like popcorn?" "Do you like candy?" and so on. She was answering normally. We asked about her favourite poem, which she has framed on the wall in her house, and she said "Oh yeah, I forgot all about that". My mom sang the first few lyrics of a song that Bubby used to sing to her when she was a little girl...

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer true..."

We waited.

"I'm half crazy all for the love of you."

She sang in a quiet, far-off voice from her side of the car. And she sang the rest of the song.

I got out of the car to head to the subway (where they were dropping me off) with tears rolling down my cheeks. That flash of memory awakens me to the fact that she's otherwise lost. That moment of clarity exposes the fog. And the fact that she once sang to my mother in a happier time makes my throat fill and my eyes well.