A Personal Narrative About Grandmothers Struggle With Dementia

From Trivial Pursuit winner, Name That Tune in two notes, to asking my grandfather what his name was. That's how my summer began in 2010. Sue was a charismatic, loving grandmother whose mind was sharp as a tack. She never failed to put a smile on your face even on your worst days. Her voice was raspy, probably from years of smoking Virginia slims. Chocolate and coke-a-cola were her two favorite things and it's not a coincidence that their mine two. All of these memories and many more began to slowly slip right out of her warm, gentle hands.

My Grandma was diagnosed with dementia when I was fourteen years old. As her illness expanded, visits with her seemed to always be the same. Questions like, "where do you live?", "how old are you?" and "Oh I knew that." Repition had become normal to us. I have never been able to truly grasp the reality of my grandma's illness, and I don't think that I will ever be able to.

2015 is when my grandmother forgot who I was. The woman that was the first to all of my sporting events. The one that caused me to fake sick all the time, so that I could stay home from school and she could take me to the park. The one that let me sit one her lap and do donuts around Barksdale Circle, even though my mother would have had a fit. Those memories she had with me, gone. How can someone go from knowing everything about you, to not even knowing your name?

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No matter how lost in her mind my grandma is, she still to this day never fails to make me feel loved. The kiss on the cheek she gives me every time she sees me seems to be getting sweeter and sweeter as the days go by. I see her in me every single day. Her over barring personality, her sarcastic mouth, the way she loves my family. It hurts so bad knowing that she can't get better. As hard as we try to bring her back into herself, it never works.

Understanding the fact that I have already lost my grandma is a really hard concept for me to swallow. It hasn't gotten easier, if anything it has gotten a lot harder. It's difficult for me to even sit and have a conversation with her without wanting to cry. We have moments when we just look at each other, and in those moments I never know if she's trying to figure out who I am, or if she's just staring, dumbfounded.

My Grandmother is someone that I will always look up to, someone who I will always strive to be like. No matter the difficulties that her illness has conspired, she's still the same person. The one that tried to get me to enjoy Solitary, even though I hated it. She's still the same big hearted grandma that I am so lucky to have in my life. These past five years have been challenging, confusing and painful, but I can only imagine how hard they have been for her.

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