The Iron Lady

I watched The Iron Lady - a "biopic" of Margaret Thatcher - last night.  The most fascinating part of the movie (warning: it moves slowly and cousin Larry slept through most of it) was not the tumultuous times she governed or her steadfast determination to do the "right thing" or her unprecedented rise to a position of power in a decidedly male-dominated government.   No, the most fascinating part of the movie was her relationship with her husband, an ongoing relationship that did not end with his death.

Oh yes, she was indeed sliding into dementia and oh yes, she did indeed know that he was in fact, dead.  But she continued to see him everywhere - at the breakfast table, lying next to her in bed, watching the latest events on the news.  She heard his advice and his musings on their past together.  He was still as real to her as he ever was.  (How can you determine that you are hallucinating if your hallucinations are real to you?)

When she finally accepted the truth and let him go she wished she had her illusions back.  I am sure dementia would be easier to take if your demented state was a happy place where your loved ones lived right alongside of you!

Small footnote: I agree with the critics who feel that this movie could have waited until the dear lady, 87 and still kicking, had passed away.