Robert and I had an intellectual and artistic connection that brought us to the movies and the theater. We pretty much shunned Hollywood and stuck to the avant-garde, the independent, the thought-provoking. He loved going to the Malverne Theater on Long Island to catch the latest and greatest. The parking was easier there than fighting to survive in Queensat  the sister theater in Kew Gardens. The last time we went was well before Covid and he was able to walk from the parking lot to the theater with a cane. We’d first have lunch at the little diner next door and then lose ourselves in a place where loud, bright, darkness was welcome and could take you away for a couple of hours. He was still driving, although I was getting more and more anxious in the car: as he made his way along highways I would often scream in horror. It looked like he was going to go into the left lane, into on-coming traffic. I was convinced it was the end of us and it was not  too far in the future when I took the car keys. I suspect that the reason why he would accelerate in jolts was because he was beginning to lose control of his lower limbs. Little did I know that in June of 2020, his driving career would be cut short. He would have a major fall in the street on a hot day, the first day he went out, insisting he had to go to Whitestone to the barber. It was also the first day the barber was open, and despite the fact that our beloved neighbor is the barber and lives a few doors down, he insisted on getting into he car and going. Then shopping. Never thinking he was invincible.

During the last two weeks when the rehab would call and initiate FaceTime, I would play music for Robert. It was easier than struggling with my one-sided conversation. Robert has a huge collection of every kind of music imaginable, in every format imaginable. Recently, he planned to go back to his vinyl and he purchased a turntable that he never used. His former turntable is sitting in a box; he said it was broken but I wonder. He has 331/3’s, and 78’s from every scratchy, popping era and genre. His classical collection is beyond outstanding. He was constantly adding to it and had to build more and more subdividers to shelves in the unit he built while in architecture school. If he heard something on the radio he’d make note and buy it: CDs in most recent years. The “collection” spans centuries and two floors of the house. Most likely, if you were to play a classical CD of the most esoteric nature, he could tell you what it was. He was a card-carrying member of The Gustav Mahler Society.

The house began to go silent a few years ago. He hardly pulled anything off the shelf for long periods of time.  His life-long love of music was waning. Now he is reduced to my youtube concerts on FaceTime.

Then the movies: I noticed that within the last year, especially, when we’d watch a series, he had difficulty following the plot, identifying the actors. If there were a lot of characters it was almost impossible for him to remember if he saw the person before. I had to explain everything. He was never good in real-life facial recognition and this was a reminder that it spilled over to fantasy. Did he, in fact, have a life-long issue with visual memory? And, it also seemed that events of his life would also fade rapidly. His ability to recall memories was inconsistent: sometimes fresh, sometimes fleeting. And he knew it. I could never figure it out.

So, here we are at yesterday.

You know what they say about a picture’s worth. Well, here comes a short video clip. Unless you see for yourself you will not understand what is happening. All the questions you have been asking me, all the facts you have been assuming, all of Robert that you know and think you still know, you have to see to understand:

Your assumptions are that he can move, stand, walk, get to the bathroom, dress himself, partake in therapy, have a discussion. You assume he jokes and smiles, that he can pull up facts, connect the dots of a conversation.

I know better.

On Friday, I said to him, before I left from my visit, “is there something you would like to say to me?”

There was a pause.

“It is easier to answer in the affirmative.”

I suspect it is easier to say, “yes,” to get a questioner to cease, to keep things trite without a needed explanation.

There are no more explanations.

The only thing left is the movie I watch daily. The cinéma vérité.

This was Sunday, April 25, 2021

(Today, Robert was happy to hear music. Baroque did the trick. As Sandra Boynton says, “Go for Baroque.”)

📌The series starts here:
Part 1: And The Band Played On … a mother’s life, a daughter’s journey

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