Precious Conversations

"Do you know how much I love you?", are not words to hold back when I don't know how many more times she'll realize it's ME. 

Talking on the phone isn't my favorite overall, but there are definitely exceptions to that rule.  My grandmother is one of those exceptions.  I can't imagine my grandmother operating a cell phone, so never mind texting.  And at this point in my life I cherish the sound of her voice.  I feel the clock ticking resolutely forward.  It's a cruel, grating tick.

"I'm not sure why I forgot that.", she muttered confusedly. Again.

Most families have an illness or condition that tends to rear its ugly head throughout generations.  My mom's family struggles with Alzheimer's, and the disease has slowly made its way to my grandmother. Truly, I think most of my family, whether we admit it or not, have that small voice whispering doubts about our own chances.  I'm not even a worrier - yet it passes through mine.

"I don't want to be a burden on my family.", she quietly said, looking at my grandfather.

The day she was officially diagnosed, I just happened to be visiting.  I'm so thankful I was there, but I walked away with a heavy heart.  I assured her he wanted to take care of her as much as she would do the same for him because it's what they do - take care of one another.  61 years married is something to be proud of, and I've told them that many times.

"Where are you?", she asked again.  She forgets I've lived in Arkansas for over 8 years.

Admittedly, I choked on my words a little as I explained again how long we've been here and where we were in the years prior.  But logic is my coping mechanism, and I've been thinking a lot about my perspective on what lies ahead.  So many diseases exist that could leave her suffering physically, in pain and fading away.  She could have to endure chemo and radiation for months/years. Maybe Alzheimer's is a way the rest of us can bear the burden for her.  She won't be aware, or so we hope, as her memory slips further.  I hope we can bear the weight of sadness for her rather than her realizing larger and larger pieces are missing.  I pray the shift in her personality goes unnoticed by her so she's not confused by her newfound indifference to things she once considered priority.

"I miss you.", slipped from my mouth as she said goodbye, but she didn't hear me.

I'm glad she can't hear the hitch in my voice, or see the tears shining in my eyes.  I'll gladly endure the sadness if it means she doesn't have to, and I'll look for joy in the conversations we have.  I can't change what's to come, so I can only change my perspective.  Doesn't mean it's easier - just that it gives me a purpose rather than pointless sadness. Meanwhile, those phone calls are something I'll look forward to.

"Talk to you soon, baby."

Yes you will, Memaw.

Edited exactly one year later to add:

I'm so thankful she hasn't forgotten who I am...yet.  We enjoyed a small plateau before she started to decline again.   Her safe place now is the recliner in her living room. She doesn't like leaving the house anymore.

After a nasty head injury last year, she's been plagued with chronic vertigo, and it's taken a toll on her because she's afraid of falling and is letting herself weaken physically due to lack of exercise.  The doctors can't seem to figure out how to fix it, but I'm not really sure it would matter if they did.  That chair is familiar and safe to her, and it's where she prefers to be.

My grandfather is taking good care of her, but I know it is such a difficult thing to watch the person you've been married to for 62 years slip away a memory at a time.

Take the time to reach out to people you love and let them know.  Life is so precious, and the memories are as well.

I recently posted a follow up to this one you can find HERE.