Forever My Bonnie

“You’re Roger you say?” she said. “I don’t know a Roger.”

Her words crushed me. I turned away so she wouldn’t see the tears running down my face. Already the rose in my hand had started to droop. She didn’t remember me. How could the love of my life not recognize me? I had known this day was coming but I never imagined it would feel this devastating. 

My wife Bonnie had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in March of 2016. When the doctor broke the news I was crushed. My wife, my friend, the person who was always there for me, was slowly slipping away. I could not have imagined what her journey would entail in the next eleven months. 

At first, Bonnie forgot little things like where she put her sunglasses or what we had talked about at dinner the previous night. Bonnie asked the same questions multiple times and still, she forgot my answer. Then, she started putting things in strange places such as leaving her towel in the pantry or putting her stamps from her collection in the fridge. Whenever I asked her why she put these items in the places she did, she would deny ever doing it.

As the disease worsened Bonnie couldn’t perform even the most simple tasks for herself anymore such as get dressed, shower, and prepare meals. As time passed on I became more fearful as Bonnie was beginning to wander away. One indelible afternoon, she made her way across town, walking right down the middle of the busy road before a friend spotted her and called me. 

Sadly, Bonnie didn’t recognize familiar places such as our son and daughter’s house who we visited almost daily. Then, she started to forget names, first friends, grandchildren, and then her children’s names. This was all very difficult and straining for me. It broke my heart to see what my strong, independent wife had become.

At the beginning of February 2017, our second oldest daughter Sarah realized I needed a break from the constant stress of taking care of Bonnie. She offered to take care of her mother to give me a break. The house seemed quiet without my wife and I cried myself to sleep most nights. Some days I didn’t want to get up. I would lie in bed and think of all the fun times we had shared. After sharing the last 51 years together, we had seldom been apart. Now even when we were together I still felt a distance between us. That distance grew further and further each day. 

On Valentine’s Day, I decided to ask Bonnie out on a date knowing it might be our last Valentine’s Day together. I drove to the local grocery store and bought a rose for her. On the drive over to Sarah’s house, I recalled the first time I had met Bonnie. We were seniors in high school when a friend introduced us. I vividly remember the first time I saw her, she was wearing a cream-colored sweater and a dark green plaid skirt, and a bright smile that captured my heart. After two weeks of building up the courage, I asked her out on a date.

For our first date, I took Bonnie to a local ice cream parlor. She was not at all shy and started up a conversation immediately. In fact, she talked so much she didn’t even notice her strawberry ice cream dripping off her cone and onto her shirt. When I finally pointed this out to her, her big, brown eyes grew wide, but instead of being embarrassed, she started to laugh. I started to laugh with her. I couldn’t resist. Her laugh sounded like the tinkling of bells. After that first date, we were officially a couple.

As I turned down Sarah’s street, a tear rolled down my cheek and I allowed the memory to fade. When I arrived at Sarah’s house, my grandchildren Lucas and Yvonne ran up, screaming my name and embracing me with a hug. After warmly returning their welcome, I greeted my daughter and her husband, Nathaniel. Then I walked upstairs to find Bonnie, who Sarah said was in the guest room. 

When I opened the door to the guest room and stepped inside, I found Bonnie lost in a world of colored pencils and paper. Although the disease had changed Bonnie in many different ways, she still continued to draw, a pastime she had acquired as a teen. 

 After surveying her for several minutes, I walked over and asked her if she would do the honors of accompanying me to dinner. 

Bonnie looked up at me and then back at her picture and then she responded. “Are you my friend?”

Her question caught me off guard, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. Trying not to cry I responded, “It’s me, Roger. Your husband.”

Then I heard the words that crushed me. The words that extinguished any last trace of hope that she would never forget me. 

“You’re Roger you say? I don’t know a Roger.”

I was now another forgotten loved one. After hearing these heart-shattering words, I picked up Bonnie’s warm hand and gently kissed it, the tears running freely down my face. She pulled her hand away, confusion evident on her face. I looked into her eyes. The eyes that had first drawn me to her. I searched for their welcoming sparkle, but I was met with emptiness. 

Why Bonnie? Why did this have to happen to the person I cared most for. I left the room and made my way to my daughter’s room, where I sat on the bed and cried. 

Bonnie doesn’t remember me. I put my hands over my face and started sobbing uncontrollably. When my tears finally ceased I reached over and pulled a tissue out of the tissue box sitting on my daughter’s dresser. My eyes stopped for a moment on the word written by the manufacturers on the box. Love. I suddenly understood. Valentine’s Day is not only about chocolates and candlelight dinners, it is about so much more. It is about love. Not the sticky-romantic type of love, but true love. True love is when you put another’s needs before your own. It’s sacrifice, beyond just declarations of eternal admiration.

I love Bonnie. I’ve only ever desired her happiness. Right now she needs me more than ever, regardless if she is able to love me in return. The long, horrible illness was not over, and I knew there were more hardships to come, but I would be beside my wife through the whole journey. She is and will always be forever my Bonnie.

Picking up my rose, I wiped away my tears and calmly made my way back into the guest room and over to Bonnie. She looked up at me. “Hi, Bonnie. You may not remember me. I’m Roger and I would love to go to dinner tonight with you.”