Tuesday, February 07, 2023

Memory Is Final

 Michael Sedano

 

Dementia of the Alzheimer's type hits in stages: Onset. Mild cognitive impairment. Mild dementia. Severe dementia. After dementia. I’ve been writing a Memory Series recounting my family’s caregiver life with Alzheimer's since our 2018 diagnosis. Barbara died yesterday. Or was it the day before? (Barbara would have liked the allusion. Her sense of humor was the last cognitive skill Alzheimer's took away. Barbara made a pun only a week ago. or was it the week before?)




 

Love, First Sight. December 1966.

 

Barbara Cauchon wasn’t ready to call it a night, especially with one more paper to write. But then, it was Friday night, and Karen was celebrating the end of Finals at Mike’s apartment just down the street. 

 

Barbara had heard all about this Mike, Karen’s study partner who could knock out a term paper without having to pull an all-nighter. A few minutes with Karen, Barbara figured, would help more than it hurt. And she’d get to meet the famous Mike.

 

The windows and door of Apartment C did little to muffle the loud music playing inside. Something classical, that was different, Barbara thought. She knocked. Karen pulled the door wide open and the music got much louder as it poured out into the night.

 

Mike’s apartment was your typical Isla Vista student lair. A stereo sat on a study desk in the corner. A typewriter occupied another desk. They’d hung a cut-and-paste term paper on the grey-white wall, term paper detritus lay crumpled on the rug near the trash basket. The room smelled of coffee and grass.

 

Karen’s study partner, the term-paper whiz, was seated guru-style on the floor, leaning into the stereo speakers, rocking with the swelling brass of The Ride of the Valkyries. Barbara assumed this is the famous Mike, because what Barbara sees is a shape covered head to foot in a green blanket.

 

“Mike,” Karen said, “Barbara’s here.”

 

Unseen fingers grasp the blanket from underneath to start pulling material from back to front. The blanket gets caught at the shoulders so the figure gives a shudder while yanking the blanket across the back of his head, sliding it slowly down his forehead, across his eyes, his nose, his lips, his chin, finally revealing his face looking curiously at Karen’s friend, Barbara Cauchon.

 

Barbara looks into shiny curious eyes of a barefoot guy with short-long hair wearing a rumpled blue dress shirt. This is her first sight of Michael Sedano. They have their first date in May 1968, a whirlwind courtship, and 54 years of married life.

 


 

Veiled Woman. August 1968.

 

The boy fights sleep but he can’t stop the veiled woman from appearing at his bedside, persisting into his dreams. Dressed in shadow, the woman holds his hand saying nothing only humming softly. He can’t shake her loose; he squeezes his eyes until the eyelids tremble, but even closed, his eyes perceive a seated woman in the dark, her face obscured by an even darker shadow. He wants to see her face but he knows he won’t see it.

 

The veiled woman returns night after night, sits beside his bed, for years. The family moves to a new house; the veiled woman sits beside his new bed. The family moves again. Again, the veiled woman holds his hand while he vainly seeks escape in sleep. But he no longer fears the woman, wonders only Who is she, What does her face look like? Why is she with me?

 

The young man does not notice that the veiled woman stops holding his hand. Occasionally her memory surfaces as he falls into college and grad school dreams, but she remains at the edge of awareness, always masked behind unasked questions.

 

Michael kneeled a lot longer than he’d rehearsed so when the priest let the couple stand, relief and joy magnified Michael’s expectation the ritual is culminating. He promises to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, all the days of our lives, until Death us do part. He means it.

 

“You may kiss your bride.”

 

Barbara turns toward Michael and lifts her veil. She takes the bottom hem in both hands and pulls the diaphanous material up and away from her lips, her nose, her eyes, and over her forehead. She stares for the first time into her husband’s face. Michael looks into Barbara’s eyes knowing instantly her face is that veiled woman of earliest memory, the Soul who guards my sleep all the days of my life.



 

Barbara May Cauchon Sedano. 

b. May 14, 1944 

d. February 4, 2023

Q E P D

Presente!





15 comments:

Anonymous said...

Blessed beyond belief, QEPD.

Thelma T. Reyna said...

Pure poetry, in the purest sense of the word. Amazing how choosing only two direct contacts with Barbara--when you first met her, and when you kissed her as your bride at the altar--and only briefly describing the settings and her, you captured so much. Thanks for yet another unforgettable vignette about your long journey in life, your unshakeable love.

Anonymous said...

Thank you for writing and sharing - and thank you for the picture!

Anonymous said...

Lovely memories

Alma Luz Villanueva said...

"He means it" The Veiled Woman, so beautiful, Em, mas milagros y cariños.

Xánath Caraza said...

Lo siento mucho, EM.

Anonymous said...

Barbara and Michael probably saved my life. I was 18yo when my mother died, six months after my father died, and I was completely on my own, and not surprisingly, I had turned to drugs to ease the pain. A couple of days after my mother died I called Barbara (the only high school teacher that believed in me ) and they had me come over right away. Fed me quesadillas and let me talk and sleep on the couch for a couple of days. They became my homebase for the next year when I moved to Santa Barbara and then, for the four years I was of the Navy. I used their home address in Temple city so I could keep the California drivers license which I think I had until I got my first faculty job in Minneapolis. So terribly hard to lose Barbara to this terrible disease, especially because she was so so so smart. And to watch Michael take care of her through it all. strongest person I know.

Anonymous said...

I didn’t know your beloved but through your FB page I had the pleasure. She will be missed by all who knew her. QEPD..

Vibiana said...

I send my love, prayers and admiration for you, Michael and your soul partner, Barbara.
Love is so worth it..Love is forever. What a gift..Thank you for sharing your life's journey with your Bloga friends, neighbors and so many more.

Rebel Girl said...

xoxo

Anonymous said...

Our Sincere Condolences for the loss of your Barbara.

Jessica Ceballos y Campbell said...

What a beautiful story you to have made. Written in the stars. 💜

VivaLizVega said...

Michael, estamos contigo!

Anonymous said...

Thank you Michael for sharing more
Of your incredible time with Barbara .
I cannot get enough knowing
The history of u and Barbara.
I will continue asking for more
Stories always your neighbor
And freind!!

Anonymous said...

The love story I’ve been waiting for, moments that were unforgettable, mysterious and finally the vision materialized with a kiss. Congratulations