The human mind - Dementia is a horrible thing
It’s funny how a sound can transport you back. The way the human mind works. Hearing a trainÂ in the distance race down the track in the background of a song and suddenly I’m enveloped by a comfort and warmth that was my youth.
Both houses that I grew up in backed onto a train track and I never really knew just how much I associated that particular sound with growing up.
A time of being carefree.
A time that I didn’t truly appreciate at the time and one that I couldn’t go back to even if I wanted to.
Perhaps that’s what dementia is. I always remember my grandad, well into his 80s, succumbing to the disease.
He couldn’t recognise the woman he’d been married to for 60 years, yet every now and then he’d manage to escape the clutches of the nursing home that he lived in and go missing.
He’d always be found standing in front of what would have been his childhood home, asking for his mummy.
A mum who had passed away sometime in the 1920s.
A home that had been demolished probably years before I was born.
Yet somehow, in the deep recesses of his mind he had enough sense, enough mental capacity to not only remember it all in the fog of senility but to make his way there, sometimes through the middle of a bitter winter.
It’s a strange thing, the human mind.