My mother (two years before she died) thought she was back at her executive job at a retirement community, so she would give my wife instructions for jobs that needed to be done on the third floor (pointing up — this was in the dining room of their home, but apparently also her office building) so nothing would get missed.

She knew who I was — I was Deb’s husband. She would acknowledge my presence in the way one does the spouse of a friend whom one doesn’t know well and whose name one has forgotten.