A cracking life

Late Lives

At 11.45 last night there was a knock at my door. I am on my own so I opened the door just a bit. There was a little grey haired old lady standing there. She asked in a Polish accent: "Is my husband there?" I told her no and needless to say was confused. She said that this was the Czykowski's house and that her husband was here. I repeated no. She said "yes, yes, they have gone to pub". I asked who had gone to the pub?? She said her husband and the Czykowski's. Had I seen them? I said no, she must be mistaken. I live here. She said yes yes, she knows, I had already said, we must agree to differ! She repeated that he was there. I asked her who she was looking for. She said Sten and Hak. They had gone for a drink and had not come back. She said that it was late and she was worried. I understood, of course, 2 old men out late at night, getting up to God Knows What. She laughed and said "Silly Old Git" and then: "Oh my day, I have had all sorts, sorry to disturb, sorry, sorry" and off she went.

About 15 minutes later she came back and asked the same thing again. She hadn't remembered that she had already knocked. We had the same conversation and off she went. I did not know where she had come from or where she lived, although I knew it was somewhere just up the street. I started to worry about her. Half an hour later, I had gone to bed and there was another knock at the door. This time when I looked out the window I could see that she was now wearing a nighty, she kept calling through the letter box for her husband. Poor love. The man who had lived here had been dead 5 years. When I had spoken to her before and I had explainhed this she was incredulous... No No she said it was his wife His WIFE who had died not him. I looked up the number for the local police. Just incase she called back.

15 minutes she knocked again. I got onto the police straight away and explained that she was distressed and I was worried about her. I opened the door and tried to persuade her to come in but she wasn't having any of it. The poor lady, She thought I was on the phone calling her husband for her. Obviously by this time I had realised that he was dead and she had forgotten. Fortunately at this time an elderly neighbour walked passed and saw what was happening. He said that he lived next door to her and had been out looking for her. He said come on Anna, let's go, come home. She was reluctant to go but nevertheless went with him. He had a key to let her in and reassured me that her daughter was on her way over.

It was upsetting, because I hate to think that she's going to remember at some point that her husband is dead. I don't want to think that she might grieve all over again as if it were a fresh incident. It can be lonely out late in life.