Alzheimer’s disease is a disease that is talked and shown a lot about, but until you have somebody going through the disease, you do not realize exactly how hard losing somebody could be. I lost both of my grandmothers to this disease a month from each other. My Grandma Arterburn had been battling with this disease for about 8 years. My Grandma Carmen, 10 years.
I was 9 when my Grandma Carmen started showing signs of dementia. Being that young, I never really understood what was going on, why she would forget little and simple things, why she repeated the same question over and over, why she always wanted to go home when in fact she was home. At 9, you really don’t think anything bad could happen. That you could very well lose a person who means the most to you to something you don’t really understand.
Watching your loved ones go through Alzheimer’s is the hardest thing to endure. I don’t wish this disease upon anybody, and I hope none of your loved ones ever have Alzheimer’s. It is like they are there physically, but mentally aren’t anymore. It is also a disease where you don’t really know much about it or how long they are going to hold on. You sometimes wish time would stop, just so you could be with them when they are still them. I grew up with a Grandma who loved and was loved immensely. I do not have a doubt in my mind that she didn’t know that, even when she wasn’t mentally with us anymore.
You don’t realize that this disease doesn’t just affect that one person, it affects everybody who has loved them. I have always said it was hard watching Grandma go through this but it was a lot harder watching Pop. Their love was truly something you would only read or see in fairy tales. It was magical. That love never once changed, even when Grandma had passed away. I can’t fathom exactly how difficult it was to watch the love of his life go through this, and can’t really do anything to help besides being there and reminding her about love.
She not only had the love of my Grandfather, but also had love from all of us; the crazy, goofy, insane family I can’t seem to stop writing or talking about. She made a home, with the help of Pop (But really.. he really did physically build her a home. They lived there for more than 50 years? I think? Way longer than I have been alive). She made a place where we could run, play in the flour while she was cooking and not get in trouble, attempt to stay quiet while she wrote down recipes from a cooking show, play pretend. A place where all of us felt safe. (That house is extremely creepy at night.) Grandma helped us figure out who we were. I always say my family is weirdly close (and we are) but the reason we are is because of her. Nobody goes through things the same. All of us might of been watching her slip away from us, but we all had a different way of dealing and coping. Some through humor.. Actually most through humor, others through just being there. The love is still there, and she is still haunting at least half of us. (out of love!)
Alzheimer’s is not a real light subject to talk about or read. It’s definitely not something humorous watching somebody go through this. It’s a part of bad in the life of all things good. My Grandma wasn’t the disease, she was my Grandma. Somebody who loved cooking, being a nurse, family, dogs, friends, and Pop. She lived an insane life that I wish I had the chance to ask her about. She was and is beautiful, inside and out. She wouldn’t want me remembering her the way she left, but remembering how she made me feel, how loved I was (and still am). I still have a lot of life to live, but I am really glad the first part of my life was spent with her.