Is 'I'Ll Be Seeing You' Worth Reading For Alzheimer'S Caregivers?

"Alex... help… please…" I tried to whisper, but no sound came out. I saw them, Alexander had his arms wrapped around Sophia, who was clutching him like her life depended on it. She was pressed against his chest, her face buried in his neck, and she wasn't letting go. "Don't look at her," Sophia whispered loudly. "You'll only make yourself sick with guilt. This isn't your fault. She did this to herself by being dramatic." That's when I heard the scream. "Oh my God! Mrs. Sterling!" Rosa, one of our housemaids, came rushing into the dining room. "Mrs. Sterling, what happened to you?" Rosa dropped to her knees beside me, her hands fluttering over my body like she didn't know where to start. "You're bleeding! There's so much blood everywhere!” I was bleeding? I couldn't feel anything below my waist anymore, but when I managed to glance down, I saw the dark stain spreading across my dress. "Mr. Alexander!" Rosa shouted, her voice cracking with an anger I’ve never seen in her before. She looked ready to commit murder. Did I look that bad? “Your wife is dying! How can you do this to her? How can you stand there holding another woman while your wife bleeds to death on the floor?!" Rosa snarled. "Rosa, lower your voice," Alexander snapped, but I could hear something different in his tone. Uncertainty. "Take Ivy to the hospital and stop making a scene, or you'll be looking for another job." Rosa shot back, tears streaming down her face. "¡Sos un bueno para nada! What kind of man are you?" I was going to die. Right here on my dining room floor, wearing my mother's blood-stained dress while my husband comforted another woman.

After a tragic accident erases her memory of the last five years — including her marriage — a woman wakes up believing she’s still engaged to the man she loved in college… not the husband who would die for her. But what if she fell in love with her husband for a reason she no longer remembers? And what if the truth about their love story is darker than she thinks?

I spent decades taking care of my kid and the elderly. I ignored my stomach pain until it turned into cancer. By the end, it had eaten me alive. Before I died, I went back to my old family home to sort through my stuff. That's when I found Danny's diary. My dead husband's diary. Hidden for fifteen years. I carefully flipped through it until I reached the last page. [Some loves are worth dying for. Alicia, I'm coming with you.] The diary never mentioned me. Not once. Page after page, it was all Alicia. That was when I learned Danny hadn't died in an accident. He and Alicia Doyle—the woman he never got over—had chosen to die together. I sank onto a chair and stared at his framed photo. "Danny Caldwell, if you loved her that much, did you regret marrying me?" Blood filled my throat. I threw his picture to the floor. "Because I regret marrying you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I refused to rot in a loveless marriage. I walked out and never looked back. He smirked and told his friends, "She'll crawl back. Bet she won't last three hours." But three hours passed. Then three days. Then three months. I never came back. Later, he asked when I'd return to him. My answer was simple. "Never."

Can your heart remember when your mind forgots? Can you recognize someone whom you promised to love? Can you keep a promise to someone who you thought is gone? Amber fell in love once but forgots everything and changed her life because of an incident she never expected to come.

Tanya A year. That’s how long I lie in a hospital bed, unmoving and aware. Then one day, my eyes pop open, and my world comes back into view, but it’s a world of unknowns. When I wake from my coma, I have no idea who I am or what happened to me. I thought the worst thing was the unknown, but the truth is, knowing can be just as bad. If not worse. The knowing allowed me to know the danger I’m in. Bryce When my wife left, my world was turned upset down. I did the only thing I was left with: fight. That was a fight for the woman lying in the hospital bed, and after a year, we won. She woke up, but her memories of her life and everyone were missing. It was up to me to help her, and that’s what I did. While helping her, a pull developed between. A pull that has me dreaming about her moaning my name and crawling on the sheets as we make our bodies one. Little did I know while making her mine and helping her that her memories were the real danger.

My mother hated me, to the point that she wished I were dead. I knew I deserved to die. Sixteen years ago, if I hadn’t insisted on going out, my brother wouldn’t have died while trying to save me. Eventually, both of us got what we wished for. I got brain cancer. She had become a stranger to me as I forgot everything and went to die in blissful ignorance. Then, she went mad.