Early in our journey when Burt was in many ways deepest in the throes of Lewy Body, he didn’t recognize me.
He’d ask me frequently who I was. I would answer with that neutrality that hides any disappointment.
From my answers, he assumed that he had several wives, all named Tamara.
From our care team, I learned that he suffered from his own unique brand of Capgras.
After his questioning of my identity, he would flirt with me.
Burt regaled me with an expansive retelling of his life story.
On one occasion, when he finished introducing himself, he asked me to tell him about myself. I told him the story of how we’d met.
Burt said, “you seem like a very nice lady, but I don’t remember you.” I feel the wrench of his words.
It was the first time he had voiced not knowing me, even if his asking me so often who I was tacitly said as much.
It might have been the simplicity of his confession (I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you) that struck me so hard.
Let me warn you that your loved one’s dementia might result in this type of erasure. And it will hurt.


