My thirteen year old granddaughter delights in hearing
stories about her mother’s teenage years. Her mother doesn’t.
As the family was gathered for dinner Sunday night a few
stories were told about noisy neighbours and all night partying. My brother,
who is a big guy and can look intimidating, used his physical presence to get
the point across to the party-goers he was telling us about.
I laughed and said he could have called the police as my
neighbours had done when my then teenage daughter had a party one night I was
away. I did cover my granddaughter’s ears so I didn’t let out any family
secrets.
As I related the story my daughter was adamant in her denial
that it ever happened. After all, she said, “You’re cognitively impaired.”
I looked at her with surprise. She was right in what she’d
said, and I had to laugh. I do have memory issues related to my MS, but sorry
kiddo, it pertains to working, or short term memory, not long time, old
memories.
We’ve all had to adapt our way of communicating, and my
children have been very supportive with my memory issues. Supportive and comfortable
enough to joke about it.
As my daughter said, laughing, she wasn’t admitting to
anything and was using whatever was convenient to support her position of
denial. It was a fun moment, a feel good moment that let me feel part of the
group when I can so often feel separate.
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