How is my grandmother? Well for starters, much of the time she is not my grandmother. For those of you who have met dementia, this probably resonates, but for anyone else, I would like to explain. I am not going to spend a lot of time talking about the long goodbye that has taken place, because that is sad, goes without saying, and not my point. When we show up to visit, the best we hope for is that she seems content and comfortable. There are still sparks of my grandmother's personality that come through from time to time. I do still feel her love, whether it is in the smile as she recognizes me or when she rubs my arm or puts her head on my shoulder. When she complains about the look on a fellow resident's face or offers other critiques, I know she's still holding on to pieces of herself. She still manages to teach me things, like finding a patience I never knew I had. The time we spend together is very different than it was, but still has its bright spots. Sometimes I don't recognize them right away.
My grandmother had just commented on how I should get married. I told her I was married. She asked how old I was, and when I responded "49," she said "That's older than me," and I thought maybe what followed would be worth recording. I think this may best answer the question, "How's your grandmother?"
