After amnesia, falling in love all over again

Penny was pacing and crying at the airport.

Forty-six days has gone by since Jeff had left their home that morning. She had been searching the sides of highways, checking hospitals.

And now they would see each other again.

To him, it would be for the first time.

To her, it was a homecoming for the man she loved.

“Welcome home,” she whispered in his ear.

That night, Penny showed him where his clothes went and then offered to sleep on the couch. She didn’t want to force the relationship.

But Jeff said no.

He needed her. He needed to know he was loved and missed.

They laid in bed and held each other. And they cried.

But he didn’t know her any better than he knew a stranger. He didn’t even know who he was. What would become of them? Could they fall in love again?

‘I want to be who I was’
Jeff was home again, but nothing felt quite right. Coming home was just the beginning of his struggle to find out who he was. Penny became his guide.

But to Jeff they were just empty memories. They meant nothing to him. Looking at his own photographs was like looking at someone else. There were no emotions behind the images.

In the beginning, Penny had to show him the most basic tasks — how to put detergent in the washing machine, how to make a scrambled egg, how the shower works. He relearned the names of states and got reacquainted with movies like “Star Wars” and “Harry Potter.”

They went to visit old friends. As they drove, Penny explained the relationship Jeff had with them. “You were good friends,” she said.

But what’s missing was their history. Did they ever have a fight? Did he truly like the person? What kinds of things did they do together? How close were they really?

Jeff Ingram was home, but he really was just an observer to his own life.

“I want to be who I was,” he said. “That’s what I think about every waking moment. I want it all back.”

His mother and stepfather came down from Canada to visit. Conversation was awkward and there wasn’t much to say. He doesn’t remember Canada. He doesn’t remember family holidays or if he was close to his mother.

Sometimes Penny, without meaning to, bombards him with information. At times it is too much, and he has to tell her to stop. It sends his mind into overload.

He has a constant, throbbing headache that won’t go away.

“He is the same person,” Penny said optimistically. “He just can’t remember he is.”

But she keeps her own feelings to herself. She doesn’t want to burden him with her struggle. She is hurting, too. Their relationship as she knew it is no more. He politely smiles and nods when she talks about holidays they celebrated, places they went.

“I’m just extremely sad,” she said, tears welling. “I’m sad for him. I’m sad for what we had. It’s heartbreaking.”

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