After Memory Loss, He Proposed Again. She Said Yes, Again.

Every time Linda Feldman visits her husband Michael O'Reilley in memory care, he falls in love with her again. He has Alzheimer's and doesn't remember their 38 years of marriage—only the feeling that they belong together. So he proposes, again and again. And Linda always says yes.

Their story shows what Alzheimer's can take—and what it often leaves behind.

When a Gift Became a Challenge

Linda Feldman and Michael O'Reilley met while serving as Alameda County public defenders. She remembers watching him in the courtroom and feeling charmed by his style, cadence, and presence.

"He had a gift," Feldman said, recalling the days she'd watch him at work.

The feeling was mutual. O'Reilley told her he fell in love the day they met.

Both were recently divorced, each with young children from previous marriages. O'Reilley brought up marriage repeatedly, but for a while, Feldman wasn't interested.

That changed one unexpected night.

The Kitchen Proposal

A stranger rang the doorbell, asking for jumper cables for his stalled car. Feldman, wary for her safety, spoke to him through the glass.

"I'll ask my husband," she told him.

Moments later, O'Reilley's oldest daughter bolted toward the door, shouting, "They're not married!"

The moment marked a shift.

"And I said, 'You know what, maybe we should get married,'" Feldman recalled.

A few weeks later, O'Reilley got down on one knee in the kitchen. They were married 38 years ago.

As their lives became intertwined, the two helped each other on cases, raised a blended family of three children, and traveled often—from Israel to Chile to Ireland. For years, their life together followed an easy rhythm.

When the Rhythm Broke

That rhythm began to break more than a decade ago, when O'Reilley was in his early 60s and Feldman began to notice signs of Alzheimer's disease.

His speech changed. He wandered. He struggled with tasks he once did effortlessly.

Before Alzheimer's, O'Reilley had led a full professional life: he wrote two books, served as a reserve officer, and taught at California State University East Bay. Now, even the most basic routines challenged him.

"It was hard for him to give up driving," Feldman said.

As O'Reilley's independence slipped away, Feldman became his primary caregiver. She worried he would leave the house and get lost, so she rarely left herself—a narrowing that led to increasing isolation.

She began seeing her friends less. It was then that Feldman realized she needed to make a decision that served them both.

A Difficult Decision

O'Reilley has now lived at The Ivy at Berkeley memory care facility for seven months.

"I knew he'd benefit from being in a communal setting," Feldman said about the difficult decision. The structured activities at the facility meant she could worry less.

Feldman visits her husband at least twice a week—sometimes bathing him, sometimes eating lunch together in the dining hall, sometimes playing mini golf or reading letters from volunteers.

During a November visit, something remarkable happened.

He proposed.

Falling in Love, Again

Feldman called Angeles Sticka, the facility's executive director, afterward—giddy, as if the two were still dating.

"It was such a touching moment for everyone," Sticka said. "I asked her how she was going to celebrate, and she said she wanted to borrow a room here for a wedding."

The team at The Ivy at Berkeley coordinated the wedding logistics. On January 10, 2026, Feldman and O'Reilley walked down the aisle again, surrounded by friends and family.

In the background, a harp played soft chords as camera shutters clicked and the couple shared a kiss.

"This love is so unique," Sticka said. "I saw an opportunity for this beautiful moment."

What Alzheimer's Takes—and What It Leaves

The couple's story reflects a reality many families face: Alzheimer's disease affects more than 7 million people age 65 and over in America, according to the Alzheimer's Association.

Vanessa Souza, a senior manager of community engagement at the Alzheimer's Association in Northern California, explained that Alzheimer's typically affects short-term memory first.

"When you're in a close relationship for a long time, there's a lot of emotional memory," Souza said. "That doesn't disappear all at once."

It's a common misconception that everyone with Alzheimer's will forget their loved ones, Souza noted. Even when recognition fades, people may remember how someone makes them feel.

"Memory loss does not affect your capacity to love and be loved," Souza said.

One Sentence That Still Comes Clearly

On a recent visit, that emotional connection was undeniable.

Feldman was seated in the common area of The Ivy at Berkeley when O'Reilley walked in, accompanied by a staff member. As soon as he saw her, a grin spread across his face.

Feldman opened her arms. He walked toward her, mirroring the gesture. The two gazed at each other before sharing a kiss and settling into a long embrace.

He no longer speaks coherently.

But there is one sentence that still comes out clearly:

"I love you, Linda."

Thirty-eight years of memories may be gone. But the feeling that they belong together? That remains.

And every time he asks, she says yes—again.