Since the stroke, Bob has not been able to remember my name. I'm talking not so much about my actual proper name (though that, too, is a problem) but my "pet name". Like many couples, before the stroke, Bob and I did not walk around the house addressing each other by our proper names. We had pet names. Mine for him was "Dar" which is short for darling, but also means "gift" in Polish. Or I called him "Bucky", don't ask me why. He always called me "Sweetheart" or "Sweets" for short. I know it's rather sappy, but I certainly have missed that.
Back in January, when he first came home, he kept calling me "Brenda".
(Which really brings to mind one simple question, which is: Just who the hell is Brenda??)
After he got over the "Brenda stage," he stopped addressing me completely and when he wanted me, I became just "hey" or "yoo hoo" or occasionally "hey you". Not very romantic, that.
So you can imagine my joy when, just yesterday, Bob turned to look at me and grabbed my hand and said, "Sweetheart."
Just that one word.
And I am elated! I mean, I'm like a 13-year-old with a crush on a boy who just smiled at her. I want to do cartwheels through the house!!---but I won't because I'd probably just break my neck.
But such joy, such simple joy, just to be a "sweetheart" again.