Brian 
My grandma turned 98 last week. She’s the last one living in our family from that generation.Her mind is slipping, but she usually knows us — though we have to remind her of names.
She repeats herself a lot, of course. She wishes everyone she knew hadn’t died. What was our son’s name again? James…She had a sweetheart named James when she was young. “Where are we? The Dentist? He does things he doesn’t need to, he has to make all the money he can.”
I pat her on the shouler and tell her “shhhh.”
She’s cold under the A/C so the hygienist brings her a blanket. She’s worried because I’m away from work. I tell her it’s fine. A few minutes later she tells me she’s worried because I’m away from work. “Where do you work”? She asks.
I load her up into my mom’s car, my primary job, while my mom schedules her next appointment. “I’m going to pay you because you missed work.” I tell her she’s not. She says she is. I change the subject before it becomes a thing.
What is our son’s name? James. “I had a sweetheart named James when I was young.”
