My mother, Gabrielle, was 90 when her husband of 64 years passed on. Although hardly able to walk by that time, she still read the Times, played chess, enjoyed a couple of cocktails and loved chatting, all on a daily basis.
Slowly, over the next four years, mom became more frustrated about her diminishing ability to remember what she read earlier in the day. Her chess games lasted only a few moves before becoming surreal, and she resented the coaxing to get her out of bed. She was running on empty. More