My mother kept asking the same questions.

 It took me a couple of years to really face the fact that she asked again because she had no memory of having asked before.

As her dementia progressed there were episodes where the questions came in a rapid-fire cycle of repetition.

 She asked, “Where’s Daddy?” I said, “Daddy died.” She gasped and asked,  “When?” I said, “Ten years ago.”

She asked,  “What did he die from?”

I said, “His heart gave out.”

With no space between the conversation repeated:

She asked, “Where’s Daddy?” I said, “Daddy died.” She gasped and asked,  “When?” I said “Ten years ago.” She asked, “What did he die from?” I said, “His heart gave out.”

With no space between the conversation repeated:

She asked, “Where’s Daddy?” I said, “Daddy died.” She gasped and asked, “When?” I said, “Ten years ago.” She asked,  “What did he die from?” I said, “His heart gave out.”

I then told myself I couldn’t keep saying the same thing over and over and gave myself permission to try a verbal stun gun.

On this round when she asked, “Where’s Daddy?” I said, “Daddy died.” She gasped and asked,  “When?” I said, “Ten years ago.” She asked,  “What did he die from?” I said, “He died from too much sex!” Oh, Mom said with a shudder and a smile, “THEN I KILLED HIM!”

She had no more questions!