I’m afraid my husband is quite gone after the accident. He’s back home now and all those terrible bruises have healed, but his head’s not right. Alzheimer’s, I think. He’s not going to recover from that.
He keeps doing this thing where he wakes up and tells me to fetch the undertaker. Just sits up in bed and shouts, Call the undertaker, call the undertaker. It really scares me, you can imagine. The other day I went berserk and shouted, What are you talking about, why must I call the undertaker? And so he looked at me and said, Because I’m dead and if you’re not careful I’m going to start smelling soon. He actually said that. Would you believe this is the man I married forty years ago? Well that was too much. I said, I said, My dear James, just listen to yourself, you have an awful lot to say for a dead man. I said that and then I said, I’m going to have to ask that you stop demanding I call the undertaker, okay, it’s not right.
I’m telling you, I’ve aged thirty years since this business started. It’s me they’re going to have to call the undertaker for.
Grey Sparrow Journal 