Grandma and Little K
I try to visit my grandma (my dad’s mother) as much as possible, but part of me thinks “what good is it?”
She’s 89, but can’t remember how old she is (she says she’s 90, but I remind her she’ll be 90 in September). She can’t remember where she puts things. She offends people without knowing it. She gets mad at my dad thinking he’s her deceased ex-husband. She can be as mean as a dog crapping tacks to everyone who cares for her.
But she likes me for some reason. Even though, according to her, my hair is too short and I should’ve taken Spanish instead of French during high school.
Sometimes she calls me Linda. Sometimes she calls my baby, decked out in pink and a bow, a boy. She asks me what “his” name is. She thinks it’s the weirdest name ever. I explain what it means to us, but she still doesn’t get it. She asks where I live at least 10 times every time we visit.
But I bring her coffee and we talk about the past because it’s the only thing she remembers. I’ve heard the stories many times, with the same facial expressions nonetheless, but I listen like it’s the first time.
She’s just grandma. And she’s slowly losing her mind to dementia.
At one point in my life, I remember thinking I’d love to grow old and turn 100. But now, I want nothing of it. That is, if my mind is gone.
I try to remember my grandma at her best when her mind was here. Each morning, she did the Detroit Free Press crossword puzzle while listening to Paul W. Smith on her Bose radio. Her nightly ritual was watching Jeopardy. Sometimes I’d watch with her. I always got excited if I knew an answer.
Her dishes had strawberries on them. She always had Coke in her fridge. And gummy candies in a dish on her table. Dark paintings adorned her walls; the painted faces scared me as a kid.
Once upon a time, she swam with me in her apartment complex pool. She told me about Ireland and how she lived there as a young girl. She gave me cards filled with generous amounts of money at Christmas and my birthday.
But no card comes at Christmas or my birthday anymore. She doesn’t even know what month it is, let alone the day. She doesn’t know her own birthday, how is she going to remember mine?
It pains me so much to see her mind slipping away. It pains me even more that she knows it and is so frustrated by it. I hate that she’s in an assisted living place where we all know she doesn’t get the best care and it robs her of thousands of dollars each month. But nobody can handle her 24/7.
I cry because I don’t want to lose her. I cry because she’s still here. I know this isn’t how she wants to live. She jokes about hoping to die soon all the time.
She might live to be 100 yet, and I will be there no matter what, to bring her coffee and talk about the past and have faith that maybe, just maybe, someday there will be a cure for this mind-robbing disease.
But in the meantime, I’m just going to lend a listening ear and try my darnest to remember the grandma I knew 20 years ago.
Awww….. this is so, so tough. But you’re doing the right thing to go and visit, and take your baby GIRL, and listen to your Grandma talk of the old days. Even if you’ve heard the stories before. When she’s gone, you’ll remember the visits – the bad and the good.
Your post is so poignant and says exactly what family members go through at times like these.
Sending you a hug!
Lauren, now I’m sobbing. My grandma was 89 when the onset of her dementia came. It was exactly as you described. She turned to me on Sunday morning at breakfast (which was a weekly thing for our family) and said, “Are we related?” She knew it was a silly question but I answered her, and knew that that was the beginning of the end for her. Luckily my husband had the opportunity to meet her, but it wasn’t really her. I described the Grandma I grew up with, with the jar of jellybeans that said “jellybeans” in 5 different colors all around the jar (which I inherited!), with the trips to McD’s for lunch and their boxed cookies that resemble animal crackers (why are they called crackers anyway? LOL). I feel for ya sweetie. Luckily it wasn’t much longer for my grandma after that Sunday morning. She couldn’t wait to be with Grandpa but I miss them dearly. I know it’s hard to enjoy them when it’s not really THEM but you’re doing the right thing!
Glad you feel me, Jill! You describe it perfectly – like it’s not really them. It’s the damnest thing that’s for sure. Glad you have some great memories of your grandma too. And you’re right – those animals are not crackers! I loved those growing up too!
Aw, thanks Dianna 🙂 It’s very frustrating for me to witness, but I know it’s even harder on her because she knows what’s happening, so I keep that in mind. I know there are a lot of folks dealing with this out there.
Lauren,
This is a touching post that I can really relate to. My dad’s mother is in assisted living because of her dementia. She doesn’t even recognize my dad and occasionally talks as if my grandfather is still alive.
The stories I hear from family members are sad. I haven’t seen her in awhile because I live so far away.
My cousin recently sent out a message to all of us with her address, suggesting we send her a Mother’s Day card. Even though she won’t know who we are, she feels happy when she knows she is cared for.
I mailed out my card yesterday with a brief note and a picture of my fiancée and I. On the back, I wrote who I was and who he was.
Good job sending the card. You’re right – even if she doesn’t exactly remember you, she will surely feel the love of getting a card. That’s why I bring my grandma coffee – the coffee in those places is not good and she really misses being able to go out a drive to get a cup. I just pray we have some nice granddaughters to take care of us when we’re in the old folks home some day 🙂
Hey Lauren!
I am so sorry your family is going through this. I know it can be hard on everyone involved, and I commend you for your effort to visit your grandma and help her remember. I had a few patients with dementia in the hospital I was working the last 2 months, and I know how difficult communication, reasoning nad just plain remembering what happened 5 minutes ago can be. But, once I asked my patients about their husbands, children, or anything about the past they would light up and become a different person. I hope you can be strong enough to continue your coffee dates and put the good times in the front of your mind when the present is at it’s worst. Stay positive =)
Sarah
P.S. I LOVE the name Kinley! I’d love to know what your inspiration was!
Aw, that means a lot coming from you, Sarah! Thanks for the encouraging words 🙂 Kinley is actually the road my husband grew up on and where his family has lived for more than 100 years. Upon further research, we found out it’s Irish (as is my heritage) and means fair warrior…there’s a couple other things, too, but maybe I will just have to share in an upcoming post 🙂
Getting old is tough, and watching someone you love get old is really tough. We went through this with my grandpa about ten years ago. I’ll spare you all the sad (and sometimes scary) stories, but I’ll tell you about my mom’s poison cookie. She said she couldn’t bear to live like he did once he started losing his mind, so she came up with this idea. She loves sweets…cookies, candy, you name it. She wants to bake a poison cookie and hide it away in her freezer. Her theory is that once her mind starts to slip, she’ll forget it’s poisonous and eat it…sparing everyone the pain of seeing her lose her mind.
Isn’t that messed up? Of course she’s not serious, but I think many people who have experienced the saddness of Alzheimer’s can relate.
That’s exactly how I feel! Getting old is a scary thing. It’s hard enough being granddaughter, but I can’t even imagine how this would feel if it was my parents or husband. Maybe your mom is on to something… 😉
It’s so sad to see our grandparents go through this. My grandpa has the same thing and it is painful to watch him not remember things and not be able to do things because I remember how he was when I was growing up. I don’t visit him very much anymore because I live a couple hours away and that makes me sad. I think you are doing a good thing by spending time with her and listening to her stories of the past.
Thanks for the encouragement, Jessica. It’s so awesome (yet sad) to see so many others are going through the same thing. Grandparents are definitely special folks.
Poignantly written, Lauren. I can relate, too. Amidst a mind-robbing disease, my 74-year-old grandma was able to reconnect with memories of motherhood as she held my baby boy in her last three months. These lucid moments were uplifting. Cherish the memories and laugh with her as often as you can. 🙂
Aww, that is so beautiful. Thanks for sharing, Kara! I will cherish her.
Lauren, you are a beautiful writer! I Teared up at this post – I am sorry you are going through this. I can relate though, Greg’s grandmother is going through the same thing… Hers gets worse day by day. 🙁 It’s heartbreaking when she stares at her 28 year old grandson and asks “whose son are you?” when his father is sitting right next to him. Hugs to your family – xoxo
That is so tough. Hugs to Greg’s family too. It’s good, although sad, so many others are going through this. I had no idea so many others close to our age are in the same boat. Nice to know I have friends to turn to 🙂
I still like animal crackers 🙂
Me too! Memmmorrriees!