Three weeks before her wedding, my sister banned our mother because dementia didn’t fit the perfect image she wanted to show her wealthy future in-laws. Then she told 200 guests Mom refused to come. But during the vows, Mom walked into the church carrying a yellowed envelope and everything changed.
I sat across from Mom on the small floral couch by the window, looking out at the maples and neatly tended gardens in the care home grounds.
« You brought yellow flowers, » she said softly. « I like yellow. »
She smiled at me like I was a stranger. Some days, I was.
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