We had a party –about twenty people – for our twentieth wedding anniversary. Not many who were with us then. We had finished making a ramp into the garden and Anna tried it out for the first time: and it worked. There were flowers and wine and chocolates. My joke was that now Anna would still be have been able to wear the dress she wore then but I would not, definitely, be able to wear my suit from those times. We have stayed together through thick and thin.
Anna was calm and gave a gracious smile, even when she was not quite sure who it was. She reminded me of the Queen Mother. Our friends know not to crowd her or make a lot of noise. The distinction between carer and friend was blurred, and there was always help at hand.
Jake came from Nottingham and helped prepare the food. Dan arrived in time to eat it.
A friend, leaving, said, ‘I’m so sorry.’
So it was a good gesture and an expression of defiance against a social death, but did not disguise at all the continuing sense that Anna is losing it: ‘it’ being what? The capacity to manage that space between what is inside and what is outside? This is why, for example, we need language, being articulate about our consciousness, which distinguishes us from animals. Losing words undermines the meaning of what is signified. Without language we communicate still by expression and gesture - with a smile and a wave of the hand, like the Queen Mother - and can do so creatively, as in mime and dance, but it is not enough.