I was my husband's second wife. He was widowed when we met, and was 30 years older than me. He remembered his first wife dying. He didn't remember marrying me. He didn't know my name. But he would regularly say, with a smile, "you are mine". Once, he asked what my name was, and I told him my first name, assuming that's what he meant. "No" he said. "Your other name". So I told him. He laughed delightedly and said "Ha, same as mine! No wonder I like you!"
He didn't know who I was, but I count myself lucky. He always knew me as someone he loved very much, and referred to me as "The One". And to the day he died, his face would just light up when he saw me coming.
He didn't know who I was, but I count myself lucky. He always knew me as someone he loved very much, and referred to me as "The One". And to the day he died, his face would just light up when he saw me coming.