It wasn’t a feminine dab your misty eyes sort of cry, it was a full-on blow your nose and pull yourself together cry. I like to watch Sunday Morning on TV every week. Sometimes I don’t get to it until Monday night, but this week, with a cup of tea on hand, I watched the program on Sunday.
One of the stories dealt with Melvin, an Alzheimer sufferer. He’s had no memory for three years now, but it was the day before Mother’s Day and he decided to go for a walk … unaccompanied. Of course as soon as that was discovered,the police were summoned. They found Melvin about two miles from home attempting to buy a bunch of roses for his wife because he remembered that’s what he did every year of his marriage on Mother’s Day.
It appears the Alzheimer disease robs you of your memory, but sometimes your instinct kicks in and you get to hand your wife a bouquet of roses once more as you did in days of old.
That’s what started my waterfall of tears. Perhaps because my mother suffered with the same affliction–I don’t know, but I thought I had cried enough to last me two months when they hit me with a segment on the last Bee Gee brother–Barry Gibb.
I loved the Bee Gees. I don’t think there was a song they ever recorded that I didn’t like. Anyway, Barry, he’s the one with the falsetto singing voice, is going on tour for the first time without his brothers, Morris and Robin. Well, that was it! Listening to that story and to their music again reopened the floodgates.
Believe me, I had a rough morning and I haven’t even touched on the Vietnam segment.