My parents, Jack and Diane, had always seemed like the perfect old-school couple — Dad cracking firefighter-retired-dad jokes and Mom shushing everyone like she still ran a library. So when they suddenly announced they were getting a divorce, I nearly choked on my coffee. They separated quietly: Dad moved to a sports-themed bachelor pad, and Mom joined a “book club” that mostly did yoga.

Life went on… until one day Dad showed up at Mom’s door holding flowers, looking confused. “Um, hi, Diane. Do I know you?” Mom squinted back, equally lost. “You look familiar. Are you selling something?” I stood there like someone watching the weirdest sitcom ever.

Then came the plot twist: they had both been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s — and neither remembered being married… or divorced. Suddenly, they were like awkward teenagers rediscovering each other. Dad brought flowers almost daily and Mom alternated between shushing him and staring suspiciously until she remembered who he was.

It was chaos, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes hilarious. I had to stop Dad from barbecuing in the living room more than once, but seeing them find comfort in each other again — forgetting the fights, remembering the love — reminded me that sometimes the heart remembers what the mind forgets. And strangely, in their confusion, they found each other again.