I remember you

Two and a half years ago, it was decided that my then 93 year old great grandmother would come up to Oregon to live with me and my family. The decision had been made quickly but I had no reason to think it would be a bad one. I still don't. But as trying to envision something you've never experienced often goes - the journey has been much different than I had imagined. Lets first point out the obvious. Being related to someone does not mean you know them. My grandma has always lived a state away from me - making her some one I only saw every year or so and only for a few hours at a time. When I got older I started making regular calls to her, but only to exchange pleasantries every few months. I remember that first day my grandma got to Oregon. She hugged me with her unexpected strength and told me how happy she was to be here. She ooed and awed through the house we had rented especially for her and I was pleased that she was pleased. That night at dinner, grandma told us a story about her growing up on a farm, getting ill and their first well. Then she told the story again. And again. Matt and I passed a look to each other. Maybe she was just nervous? The weeks went on and I realized that grandma told this story many times over. She also asked the same questions several times in a row and never seemed to absorb my responses. At 93 I hadn't expected her memory to be perfect, but I hadn't known anything about her memory loss. It had never been apparent over the phone and it had never been mentioned to me. I realized the extent of my grandma's dementia in two shocking incidents that occurred on the same day. It was a Saturday which meant both Matt and I were home. I was in the back rooms cleaning and doing laundry when I heard my grandma ask Matt where the "lady who works here" is. Matt paused. "You mean Jessica?" "I don't know, is that her name?" My grandma doesn't know my name? I realized then that I hadn't heard her use my name since she'd been with us. She always called me honey or sweetheart. I thought it was just a grandma thing. That night after everyone had gone to bed, I heard grandma get up. Not immediately alarming as she often uses the restroom during the night. But, then the kitchen light popped on. "Hello? HELLO?". I jumped up and ran out to her. Grandma told me that people were coming to pick her up, that they were supposed to be going dancing and she was late - she was late and she needed to go right now. I took a second to shake off the shock and reminded her that we were in Oregon and no one was coming and no one was going. She got mad at me for my apparent lack of knowledge and went back to her room shaking her head at me. No one got much sleep that night. Now, two years later, there isn't anything grandma does that shocks me. She often believes that our house is some sort of facility and that I am staff. It makes me sad that she can't always enjoy living with family that loves her, I know how that must make her feel also. Matt and I completely cleaned out and rearranged our bedroom over this weekend. Grandma stood in the hall and watched us through most of it. She asked us several times what happened to the family that lived here. "You mean us grandma?" "No, the ones with the little girl" Ah, yes grandma, that's us. I don't think anyone can understand how hard it is to care for someone who simply can't remember unless they've done it themselves. She doesn't remember our trips, going out to eat, going to get her hair done, she doesn't remember when people come to visit or when we go to visit them or any of our names. I can see the recognition when she sees my mom and dad, but she doesn't understand that my mom is her daughter's daughter - or that I am the daughter of my mom. Some days she thinks Matt went to school with her husband. Some days, she thinks I'm pulling her leg when I tell her the kids are mine. Every day I try to tell her who I really am and how glad I am that she is here. Usually then she'll pat my cheek and say "I remember you, from when you were just a little girl. I've know you all your life!" And I smile. Yes grandma, you sure have.