What a poignant memory. As you say: brought up to the surface by a smell, a song, someone’s voice. My father took us north when I was very young, to Kirkland Lake and Timmins to visit where he had mined with his brother before WW2, and my mother had taught. They hadn’t met then. Funny the things you recall. I’m glad you get back to see your father even if he doesn’t know you. Alzheimer’s is an awful thief of our humanity.