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Four were in the photograph on the bedside table, staring at him. His face was one of them, but he could not make out the other three. A woman, a young man, and a baby. When he tried to get out of bed, his arms proved too weak to carry him. He tried again and again, and just as he was struggling, the door swung open to reveal a young woman dressed in blue. She greeted him with a warm smile, pulled back the curtains, and said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well?" He looked at her and asked, "Who are you?" She came to him, helped him sit upright, and explained, "I am your nurse and you have been staying with us at the nursing home. Do you recognise the people in the photo?" "Do I know them?" he asked with weak eyes. With a reassuring smile on her face, she settled down beside him and held his hand. She spoke softly, "On your right is your son, a successful architect who visits you often and holds his baby. To your left is your wife." Then she added tenderly, "You have been here with us for two years because you suffered amnesia from a stroke." He stared at her blankly, like a lost child who could remember nothing of his past. Sensing his confusion, she said, "Wait a moment, I will get you something that will refresh your memory.” She took out a thick old photo album from the wooden wardrobe by the door and sat with him, flicking through the pages and discovering snapshots from his life. There were pictures from his childhood, from his wedding day, and even a picture of the young man who had confused him. She suggested, "Now let us play your favourite radio station and relax a bit."

The soothing hum of his old radio sounded in his room, playing a familiar tune as he tried to finish his breakfast. At that moment, his son, the architect, entered the room. He asked gently, "How are you today, Papa?" The old man looked at him, still struggling to fit his face into the puzzle of memories in his head. His son suggested, "How about a short walk in the sunny garden downstairs?" He helped his father into the wheelchair and pushed him through the paths of the garden. The serenity of the garden triggered a rush of memories. He remembered the smell of his wife's homemade apple pie and the joy of his grandson's laughter. He looked up at his son and said, "I remember you!" His son looked at him gently and said, "Hello, Papa."

With each passing day, his mind became a little clearer, his memories resurfacing like faded photographs developing in a darkroom. He spent time with other residents of the nursing home, listening to their stories and telling his own, at least the ones he could remember. The shared experiences helped him regain the social connections he had lost since his amnesia struck him. As his memory gradually improved, he was able to look at the photo in the frame on the bedside table and recognise the faces on it. The woman next to him was his beloved late wife, and the young man was indeed his architect son who had visited him regularly with his own child. The baby in the picture was his cherished grandchild, who is no longer a baby but a cheeky little boy who likes to sing to him when he visits. The pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place and the past became clearer. He reconnected with his caring son, who was overjoyed to have his father back. They spent many days in heartfelt conversations, reminiscing about old times and creating new memories together. They also talked about the mother who had passed away too soon, and while some memories remained elusive, the bond they forged in the present was stronger than ever. The little grandson observed this bond between the two men and the resilience that had brought them back together. For the little boy, the family became a source of strength and a treasure to be cherished no matter what challenges life brings, and by getting closer to his grandfather, he learned that caring is a precious heritage that is passed down through the generations.