2014 Walk to End Alzheimer's

I don’t normally partner up or join groups when I participate in events that represent causes that are close to me, such as the Walk to End Alzheimer’s. 

Today, as I was surrounded by thousands of people, I was alone – deep in my own thoughts, distant.  You see, this event, this disease, are very personal for me and today was very poignant and solemn as I remembered.

My earliest memory in life was with Gram, at my aunt’s wedding.  Representative of my fearful self at that time, I was hiding behind her pleated skirt, only occasionally peeking out to see what was going on.  She was my strength and my protector then.  She still is now. 

The irony of today was that it was a time for me to remember – at an event for memory loss.  I remembered where we’ve been over the years since this disease first started with Gram probably 9 years ago; all the stages, most of which were textbook,  that have led up to today – late stage.  I remembered when I determined she could no longer live alone and how I had to introduce help to a staunchly independent woman.  I remembered when I moved her into my house and subsequently to assisted living.  I remembered the day I had to move her things out of the assisted living facility, knowing that she needed skilled nursing and would not be returning.  I bawled my eyes out as I packed up her room.  I remembered the days of Gram’s Sunday dinners and how much I miss them – all the fighting, too.  I remember taking her grocery shopping and hating it so much.  Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a Gram shopping trip today.  I remembered all the Christmases - those that wouldn’t have been complete without her.  Thanksgivings, Easters and birthdays – I remembered all of them.  I miss all of them.  I miss all of them the way they used to be – with Gram. 

It was also a day for me to think about where we are today:  Gram’s memory is gone.  Her ability to make complete sentences is mostly gone and sometimes she simply makes noises that aren’t even words.  She doesn’t remember most people.  She remembers me – my name, but can’t always remember how I fit.  Sometimes, I’m her husband, sometimes, her son.  The other day, she actually referred to me as grandson.  BUT, she is physically active and healthy; she has no pain.  She is happy.  She is loved.

Lastly, for a moment today, I wondered what the future holds.  Then I stopped myself.  I know what the future holds.  What’s more important is that, as much as I miss the “old” Gram, I am happy and honored to know the “new” Gram.  I am also grateful to still have her with me. 

Since I was a child, I have feared losing Gram.  Today, I don’t so much because she’s been slowly leaving me for years and thus, easing me into it.  They say Alzheimer’s is the long good-bye.  It is.