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    Forget Me Not
    Forget Me Not
    Forget Me Not
    Ebook66 pages53 minutes

    Forget Me Not

    By L.T. Smith

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Already emotionally drained by coping with her mother’s Alzheimer’s, Cathy Turner feels as if the death of her older brother is the last straw. She walls off her emotions, and mechanically copes with the demands on her time, day by day. Until forces beyond her control and beyond her understanding, break through her self-imposed isolation. Is she losing her mind, or is a power beyond this world gently nudging her in a direction that promises hope and renewal?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherYlva Publishing
    Release dateOct 26, 2014
    ISBN9783955332853
    Forget Me Not

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      Book preview

      Forget Me Not - L.T. Smith

      Copyright © 2014 by L.T. Smith. All rights reserved.

      First Smashwords Edition: October 2014

      Cover Design: Amanda Chron

      Editor: Day Petersen

      All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

      Forget Me Not

      by L.T. Smith

      Table of Contents

      Forget Me Not

      Dedication

      Acknowledgement

      About L.T. Smith

      Forget Me Not

      by L.T. Smith

      It all started with Mum losing her wedding ring. Considering how much weight had fallen off her, it was no surprise. Her clothes were hanging from her as if she was a living, breathing hanger. Understand that people with Alzheimer’s do lose glasses, teeth, and jewellery on a regular basis. And it isn’t just their mental capabilities that disappear, but also other things that connected them with the person that they used to be, even if those other things were material. I would have let the loss of the ring go, but my dad couldn’t get past it. It was his promise to her they would always be together, and considering my mother had been sectioned and was living away from him, its loss seemed like another kick in his teeth. Every visit he made tore away another part of him, and he had started to stay away, leaving the bulk of the visiting to me.

      Speaking to the Clinical Lead on the ward was not my bag. I didn’t want to complain, didn’t want to reiterate my dad’s rant about the ring having been stolen, but what else could I do? Nothing. Make the complaint and take the rebuttal on the chin, like the spineless fucker I was becoming.

      I can assure you, Miss Turner, we have searched everywhere for Brenda’s wedding ring. It seems to have just disappeared. Debbie Jackson was the lead nurse, and I could tell she made her ward run as tightly as possible. Truth be known, I was a little bit scared of her. But, we will go on looking. It’ll turn up eventually.

      I opened my mouth to speak, but was forestalled by a gentle rapping on the office door. Debbie apologised for the interruption and then shouted for the person waiting outside to come in. I knew it was a hospital, that they had more important things to worry about than getting the sniffer dogs in to track down my mum’s vanishing jewellery, but nevertheless, I wanted to be heard. And maybe, just maybe, Debbie might actually ask how I was coping.

      It wasn’t just because my mother was holed up in what could be classed as a modern day asylum that my nerves were on edge. Much of it was because it had only been a matter of weeks since my brother had died. The family had decided to not tell Mum of Robert’s passing, not to burden her with feelings of grief when there was no chance she could hold on to the reason for it. Why would we inform her that her son was dead, when minutes afterwards the pain would still be there but the cause absent?

      And as the weeks had passed, I thought that keeping my emotions under strict control was the only way that I could continue to do what needed to be done for Mum. The strain of not allowing myself to grieve was beginning to take its toll on me.

      Sorry to disturb you, Debbie, but…

      Pulling myself out of my disappointment at being pushed to one side, I looked over at the door. A dark head of hair seemed to be peering around the edge of it, the attention of the accompanying face fixed on Debbie.

      Shall I come back?

      The voice was so soft, so tender, that I had to keen my ears to hear her.

      No, Viv. I’m glad you stopped by. Debbie moved over to the door and pulled it open wider. I’d like to introduce you to Brenda’s daughter, Cathy Turner.

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