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On a bad day it is hard for me to remember what she used to be like before her illness overtook her.
On a good day she becomes an adjusted version of herself again.
But the good days are the hardest.
When my grandmother first started forgetting, we all dismissed it as something natural for a person her age. Flimsiness, we thought, gets more apparent as one ages. Accepting her having Alzheimer's was hard, but as her memories faded away, it became clear that it was something we could no longer ignore.
Writing, thinking, talking and dealing with Alzheimer's is difficult. It is presented as an illness, yet it seems to affect every single patient differently, with no obvious way of treating or handling it. Sure there are general notions of measures to take when it has consumed a person - but there seems to be no pattern.
Anyway. I am no researcher or scientist or doctor. I am simply a granddaughter of an amazing woman who got sick.
Let me tell you about her:
My grandmother has many talents. She is incredibly bright, well-articulated and well read. She is an amazing cook - although her musicality probably exceeds her cooking skills. She has a beautiful singing voice and she speaks three languages. She is a good mother - maybe an even better grandmother (I guess people learn from their mistakes as parents), a hard worker and a compassionate human being. Her life has been hard, at times; marrying at 19, almost dying while giving birth to her first child (of three), keeping two cafeterias and a pastry shop for years, working an office job while simultaneously renting rooms to tourists in the summer, battling her husband's addiction to gambling // her life has not been easy. Despite all these things, my grandmother has always showered us with love, a love impossible to put into words, a deep, pure love.
I have many memories of her before the Alzheimer's - but my favorite ones are these: sitting by her kitchen table as children, "helping" her make meatballs, surrounded by the heavenly smell of heavenly food, listening to her singing, laughing at her jokes. She has always had a great sense of humor, my grandmother. And there is nothing like the smell of a grandmother's food. It is made with such affection, love and life experience - it truly is unique; at least for a grandchild.
It started with her re-telling the same stories. It then progressed to her forgetting important details of stories, and mixing them together. Two years ago, I remember her trying to tell me how she met my grandfather, but she couldn't quite figure it out. A year ago she told me she wanted to see her mother again, "Let's jump on the ferry and visit her", she said. "Your mother has passed on", I told her, in a soft voice. She looked at me with puppy eyes filled with surprise and fear "How do you know? Who told you?", she replied. After that, the rest of us agreed, as a family, to never tell her that some of her loved ones had passed away. There is no purpose in making her grieve time and time again.
She is a different Maria now. Surrounded by old and new photographs where she hides her remaining memories, she lives her life, day by day. We share moments of laughter, tears, anger and frustration. We have found that music soothes her, and even though she can't remember song titles, as soon as we start singing, she immediately joins in, remembering all the lyrics. It really is remarkable. We cherish both her old and new self, adjusting our behavior on a day to day basis, depending on her mood when she wakes up.
Sometimes I struggle trying to remember her as she was. But being a part of this stage of her life is a gift, even with the hard days, I treasure every moment I have with her. Throughout her life, she has been a devoted wife, and a loving mother and grandmother. The least we can do, is try to make it up to her.
You can find some info on Dementia and Alzheimer's here.
