It was a bright and warm December day, the perfect weather to take her husband along to the bakery. Little did Kate know that when she asked him to sit quietly in a chair while she paid for and collected her purchases, she had invited doom. 

Five minutes! That’s all it took but when she turned around he had disappeared. She ran out of the bakery calling out his name, frantically looking for him. There was no sign of him. It was as if he had vaporised!

She rushed back into the bakery.

 “Ma’am, are you looking for the gentleman who was sitting here?” A customer responded to her frantic look. “He followed another lady out, calling her ‘aunty’.”

She hurried outside cursing herself silently for letting him out of her sight.

He was almost tied to her wherever they went. He obeyed her and followed her around like a toddler after his mother. It made him very insecure if she was out of sight for more than a few minutes even in the house.

“Where is aunty? Have you seen aunty?” he would go wide-eyed like a lost kid.

Jokingly we called them Mary and her little lamb. Rather than be annoyed, Kate took that too with her characteristic, tinkling laugh.  

But today she had managed to lose her lamb. Eyes glazed, tears threatening to spill all over her kind face, she returned home and called up family and friends. We poured in from our homes and offices.  A plan was quickly chalked out.  Teams of two went in every possible direction from the bakery. Armed with photographs, we covered bus depots, the railway station, other places uncle could be familiar with, every possible road he could have taken from there but morning turned to an anxious afternoon and then to exasperating evening without sign of him. The way his dementia and forgetfulness had progressed it was impossible that he would find his way home. Easily threatened, he could either become aggressive or be cowed down totally.

“Oh God! He will have to take to begging if he is not stoned and shooed away as a mad man.”  “Where will he sleep?” “Will he be ill-treated by strangers for the rest of his life?’’ “How will he survive in unfamiliar surroundings?” “Will he die somewhere starving, forsaken like a street dog?”

Fear for him drove our imaginations to crazy heights. Overwhelmed we looked for him among those sleeping outside the railway station and the homeless on footpaths; we peeped down at beggars huddled together, receiving strange glances in return.

That was the day the plight of such people hit home hard! He could become one of these destitute if we didn’t find him. And we didn’t!

Apprehensive we decided it was time to prepare Aunt Kate for the most awful thing.

“No, I will not give up. I know we will find him. I will go out later at night with my son and look for him.” She flexed her faith muscles, shooting down all our arguments.  

“Aunty, please have a bite. You haven’t eaten all day. Have some water at least.”

“Let him come home. I will eat only after I have fed him. Do you have any idea how hungry he must be?” Choking on those words she went back to pray. She had spent most of the day praying. We couldn’t risk letting her go in search, vexed and frail as she was.

His favourite cuckoo clock struck eleven. No lights could lessen the dark shadow of despair in our hearts. Thoroughly exhausted, hope deflated, we went back to our respective homes harbouring the worst fears. There was just so much we could do.

Not Kate. She believed and continued to pray into the night.  Her strength had always been prayer, her guiding force love, her security was her faith and in less trying situations the ability to laugh was her energizer. She was one indomitable lady, for sure!

Around one o’clock next morning some intuition led their son to go around once more looking for him down one particular road.

About two hours later phones started ringing again.

“Uncle has been found.” “H_ has brought him home.”

Ah, sweet relief!

Lunatic!

He was kilometres away from home, trudging along on a lonely, hilly road, feet swollen, hands scratched and bloodied, face bruised and puffed, clothes torn, disoriented and totally drained without food or water!  

We will never know what really happened. What we do know is that Kate’s faith, love, determination and prayers brought him back. Her happiness and gratitude shone in the love with which she nursed him back on his feet.

Before he forgot even his name, uncle was an intelligent, active, witty person with little patience for people who made small talk. He loved music and the arts. Their house was filled with laughter, love and generosity. It was heartbreaking to see him degenerate into a forgetful, bumbling, doddering old man mentally incapacitated by Alzheimer’s.

His behaviour used to be painfully embarrassing but that didn’t deter my aunt, a gritty old lady, from taking him wherever she went. Parks, eateries, parties, visiting...All Kate knew was that she loved him; they had shared over forty years of married life and now when he needed her she would be with him at every step of the difficult way. And yes, she was vociferously against institutionalising him.

With misty eyes she would always say, “Not so long as I am alive.”

Diminutive in size, she was chronically asthmatic and fragile from years of medication. Financial constraints added to her burden not allowing her the luxury of hiring help; so she bathed him, fed him, clothed him and protected him from even perceived threat and hostility. His wants and needs were of paramount importance. Rather ignorant about the disease and an Alzheimer patient’s special needs, she became the perfect care-giver, finding power and direction in her unconditional love.

Her patience and compassion were infinite. She used to re-teach him to count, to recite rhymes and sing his favourite songs. “Come on,” she would gently goad. “Repeat numbers one to ten after me.” Or “Let’s chant this prayer.” “Sing your favourite Jim Reeves song.” Where others saw a diminished man she still saw his wholeness and persuasively tried to heal him back to it.

A dauntless lady, compassionate to a fault, ever giving and forgiving; she didn’t get nor asked for anything in return. Not even a word of gratitude for the untiring way she gave care to her husband.

Today we cherish your memory. You knew the power of love and exalted in the joy of giving when everyone around you said you were foolish. We salute your determination and selflessness, your heart of pure gold, Aunty Kate! You lived to love and give, give, give.