I Have Seen Roses Damasked by by Anfisa Doroshenko

– I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
but these have a color of fresh juicy grass! How lovely! May I know your name, sir? – Molly spoke softly and slowly, as if uttering every word was not an easy task. The eldest patient of the hospital, last week she celebrated her 76th birthday. A lone pink balloon laid in the corner of the room. There was a heaped plate of canned pineapple chunks on the table and their smell filled the ward. Next to this plate, lined up in a row, like on a parade, there were bottles with pills.
– I’m Archie. – Tall man with sallow face winced. It was her husband who spoke to her. The crackle of despair was audible in his weak voice. His eyes were shining and his fists clenched.
It's been half a year since she failed to understand who their son Henry was. Just a week later, she was frightened by Archie, because she thought he was a robber. Archie saw with his own eyes the disease’s development: screams, greed, irritability… She could unexpectedly fly into a jealous rage and then, after just a couple of minutes, be absolutely indifferent to everyone. Afterwards, she thought that Henry's daughter was her own, and she began to consider herself as a 30-year-old. This confusing situation was the last straw.
Throughout the years, they have endured seemingly insurmountable difficulties. But this, the last one, was more difficult than all the previous. He was disappointed in people, because everything they could do for him was to sympathize. Sometimes sincerely, and sometimes just because it's accepted in society. He knew that no one could help him, so he was healing his wounds with memories. Archie did remember everything clearly. Their exciting journey to Madeira and breathtaking cruise on the Norwegian fjords. The way she persuaded him to try scuba diving in Egypt, and how they got lost in Rome. Proust's evening readings and two-week dance courses, where he was forced to straighten his knees. He could recall how their son said “dad” first time, so that he got drunk in a seedy bar and returned home at dawn. He remembered how they waited for the second child, but something went wrong… The birth of their granddaughter was a holiday for her, and she led the child anywhere she wanted. Girl’s name was Rosie, because her grandma liked it. After all, she was a big fan of these flowers. Molly had a green thumb. When Archie looked back, he filled with both sadness and joy. He could not share his memories with her, as something in her head erased them rapidly. All he had to do was to bring her roses. That’s what Archie did regularly. These flowers gave him some kind of stability: she was always glad of them, without exception. Rarely, when she asked “Archie?”, he trembled, because the very next day she could not remember.
Obviously, she will never recognize him. Undeniably, he will never stop loving her. Well, Shakespeare never even dreamed of the story like this.