She's really sick... they say she may not make it through the week. My heart aches. The Dr's say that all they can do now is make her comfortable I can't help but wonder how. She is so little, so frail, so sick, and so far gone. She has Alzheimer's... she has been through so much. I remember when it started. She would forget little things, like where the keys were. She would sit for hours just staring out the kitchen window. I can still remember the way the sun beams would dance on her red hair. I was maybe 4 when it all started. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with her, and I would just watch her. I never interrupted, she always looked so content. As time went on I remember her contentness turned and she would just sit and cry... still, I never interrupted, I just watched. I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before she stopped crying. We would sit and watch Soap Operas every afternoon, I enjoyed that time together. I remember when the family started to worry my dad said, "She can't separate whats on TV from reality." That scared me. That's when my heart first felt pain. I started to interrupted her quite time, and started to beg her to sit in the living room with me, I was 6 and trying my hardest to make things better.
I remember when her sister Aunt Rena would come up from Alamosa to visit, they would stay up for hours speaking Spanish and laughing. The visits became fewer when her sister started to have the same symptoms.
When I was 10 Grandma started getting worse. She would cry a lot more, when we would walk in the house she say "How did you find me?" She thought she was in Alamosa. To me it was like watching her grow backwards. She would tell us that her mom and dad came to visit. She was always looking for the 'baby'. She forgot so much. She would ask at least 8 times who you were. It hurt so bad. I would always get mad at her because I just told her, "Grandma, I'm Monique." I wouldn't cry until I was in the other room. She always used to make us promise that we wouldn't put her in home, so we had a nurse move in. That didn't last long. She needed more care than a nurse could offer.
Christmas 1997 Grandma was with us, she stayed at our house for a week. After the new year they said she was going to go back home. I was 15, I should have known better. They moved her into a nursing home, they said they could care for her better there. That was 8 years ago. Her condition continued to deteriorate. Her speach became so slurred it was nothing more than a mumble. She eventually quit asking to go home. She always cried. I hated seeing her in there, it hurt so bad to watch her and see her so miserable. But I knew that we couldn't care for her the way they do. I would go visit her, not as often as I should. Once or twice a month, and on her birthday and holidays. For her 90th birthday we brought Aunt Rena up. They sat there right next to each other and every few minutes they would realize that they were together. They would get so excited and mumble and then hug. It was like they were speaking the same language, and no one else understood.
Christmas 2005, she was sleeping when we went in. I knelt down beside her bed and was holding her hand. She opened one eye and smiled. "Merry Christmas" she said as clear as day. I started crying. "I love you Grandma." I couldn't stay any longer. I kissed her hand and left the room.
She just had her 91st birthday on April 12th. I think God is lending her to us for a just a little bit longer. I'm going to miss her, but I know that when she goes it won't be good-bye. It'll be "see you on the other side" I love her so much and I hate to see her hurting. But God will make her whole. I don't cry because I'm sad, I cry because I know its time. It's just hard to let go, right?