Dementia

You said to me;
"Do you remember where, dear? I must have placed it somewhere." I leaned away as you spoke (you are becoming hard of hearing, I guess we all have to die sometime). I put my hand, down, on your leathery, brown hand (what a tan you have!) and caressed your gnarled fingers gently.  "Right behind you, Grandma."  I say loudly, into your ear and you relax, ever so slightly, as the panic flees from your chest.
"Thank you, my love"
"Love you too, Grandma"