The Rest of the Story

I don’t know whether this has ever happened to you: something triggers an interest in those old stories that a favorite aunt has been telling you all your life… but then when you get around to asking her for more details, you discover that the opportunity has passed, because she isn’t quite up to it any more?

That’s kind of how it is with Jip these days. When people bring up a subject she knows lots about—either to make conversation, or because they really are curious to know more—she usually doesn’t feel like sustaining it. She still knows all the details, but she’d rather talk about what’s for dinner or when we are going to do something about the dust in the apartment. Her focus has narrowed to the here and now.

In Chiang Mai, my former teacher toured me around a cool temple and monastery known as Wat Umong. Its forest setting made me think Jip would like it there. I then met a guy for dinner who remembered Jip showing him that temple several years back, when he had been new in town. He even said it was affiliated with a school of meditation teaching that I knew she was once interested in.

I couldn’t wait to ask Jip more about the place when I got back to Bangkok. It had all the ingredients for a fun chat—distant past, happy affiliations, high significance and appeal. But she dropped it like a stone. No longer on her radar screen.

The effect of this disease on her speech is an even bigger obstacle to communicating with Jip. Often her words all run together, or her voice rises and falls like the sound of a car that won’t start. At this point I get about ten percent of what she says … and I do as well as anyone.

So I rely on facial expression for much of my understanding. (Her great smile means so much more to me nowadays than ever before.) That’s why when I pray for miracles, I no longer pray for Jip’s eyes or legs to work again. I would just love to be able to hear the rest of the story.