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Carrie Martin has a wonderful life—a loving husband, a sweet daughter and a feisty mother. But suddenly her mom can’t remember little things…then big things. Now, it’s as if the mother who was once warm and outrageous has become someone she barely recognizes. Feeling lost and alone, Carrie finds comfort in her friends who surprise her by collecting photos worth remembering and mementos worth cherishing. Slowly, Carrie learns that memories are made one day at a time and that treasuring today rather than dwelling on the pain and despair of her mother’s illness is what truly matters. And that hope and lovingkindness have been there all along…
During the writing of this book, our family suffered
the loss of my mother-in-law, Lorene Goodnight.
Lorene was more than a mother-in-law. She was
the Mom I didn’t have. I loved her and she loved
me—as mother and daughter. A Christian since the
age of twelve (like Frannie), Lorene’s steadfast faith
and unconditional love taught me a great deal about
being a woman of God, lessons I’m still learning.
During the last year of her life, this precious saint
suffered with a type of dementia. So this book is
dedicated to her memory because truly, she may
have forgotten many things, but God had not
forgotten her. Her name was written in the palms
of His hands.
I would also like to acknowledge the many
Alzheimer’s bloggers, both patients and caregivers,
who gave me insight into your devastating journey.
May God be with you the way He was with Frannie.
Unforgettable
Linda Goodnight
MILLS & BOON
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Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.
—Isaiah 49:15–16
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Funny how everything could be normal one minute and utter chaos the next.
For the rest of her life, Carrie Martin would remember that bright Saturday as a perfect spring day in a perfectly happy, settled, safe life.
At ten o’clock in the morning, while on her hands and knees in the front yard transplanting iris bulbs and waiting for her daughter and husband to show up with peat moss from Clifford’s Garden Center, Carrie was jolted by the onk-onk of a car horn. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but she did anyway, lifting a dirty gloved hand in greeting as the gold-colored Oldsmobile sailed into the driveway with one final blast of goodwill.
Her mother, the irrepressible Francis Adler—Frannie to her friends—hopped out of the Olds and crossed
