Otsuka's excellent story about dementia, with an unusual narrative technique

Julie Otsuka's excellent 2012 story Diem Perdidi (which, as we learn from the story, means I have lost the day) in 100 Years of the Best American Short Stories is an excellent example of experimentation in form to good ends - clear and moving delineation of character, emotional and moving, a life portrait. The story is told from the POV of a late 40s narrator in regard to her mother, a Japanese-American, who is suffering from early or perhaps not so early stages of dementia in progress (or regress). Almost every sentence begins with the phrase She remembers of She does not remember, and with this unusual narrative device we see, in fragments, the life story of this woman. She remembers much of her life - w/, as is often the case with the elderly, an unusual focus on the distant rather than recent past - remembering her first love with more affection, it seems, that toward her faithful husband, remembering her first born who died within hours of birth with much more intensity than she remembers or recognizes her oldest living child (the narrator, sort of - she doesn't narrate but only from her close POV can the story be told). This story would make a great prose poem, if the sentences were arranged as such - lines and stanzas rather than paragraphs and sections. We feel the pain of the woman with her uncertainty about her present life (she believes every day to be Sunday, when she goes for a ride w/ her husband), her sufferings (particularly in an internment camp during the 2nd world war), her inability to remember what she was told or what she said just a few minutes ago - all tied to her deep memories and strong feelings about long ago - and as a result we feel the pain of her family, the daughter often forgotten, the husband whom she can barely recognize. In a particularly smart closing of the narrative loop (minor spoiler here) the last section f the story repeats, more or less, the list from the first section of what "she remembers" but now "she does not remember" - giving us a sense of the inevitable course of the dementia: the main character disappears like smoke before our eyes.