Something surprising occurred last week. Meems lost Kelly. Kelly is no longer.

Kelly - granddaughter, niece, and daughter of my sister, Kathy - has visited Meems on average once a week since moving to Lubbock two years ago.

Meems' dimming mind "tagged" her with the words "Kelly," "granddaughter," "nursing school," and "nurses make good money."

Over time the progression of losing Kelly went something like this:

"When do you graduate from nursing school?"

"September of 2017, Mimi!"

..........

"When do you graduate from nursing school?"

"In September of this year, Mimi!"

..........

"When do you graduate from nursing school?"

"In September, Mimi!"

..........

"Are you my nurse?"

"No, Mimi, I'm your granddaughter, Kelly."

..........

Then, last week:

"Mom, do you know who this pretty girl is?"

She slowly raised her head off of her chest and gave Kelly a prolonged thoughtful look.

"Jody?"

"No, Mimi. I'm Kelly, your granddaughter."

"Kelly?"

"Yes, Mom. That's Kathy's daughter, Kelly. She's your granddaughter."

"Oh."

A few minutes later:

"Mimi, do you remember my name?"

"Jody."

Since then, it's been Jody. Mom remembers me. She remembers my son, Bryce. She remembers my husband, Alan. But, she has lost her beloved granddaughter. In exchange, she gained a new friend. Jody. We're just goin' with it.

Jody. Jody. Jody.