My grandmother moved into supported accommodation in her mid
80s. She had Alzheimers Disease and
needed help to shower, cook, clean, be safe.
She had four sons, including my own father who had moved continent as a
young adult. The remaining three sons designed
a roster of visitors, so that my grandmother had company during the week and
extra help not provided by paid staff.
As a child, I loved receiving postcards, birthday cards and
Christmas parcels from my grandmother.
It was wonderful to be thought about by my distant ‘Oma’, and I strived to write to her as often as I
received her mail. I felt close to her,
and treasured the infrequent times we were actually together. Relatives told me that I looked and acted
like her. Their comments delighted me.
I was 25, the last time I saw her. I visited her with my uncle and aunt. My grandmother warmly welcomed me into her
home, but it was soon clear that she had forgotten who I was. My uncle attempted to remind her many times
during my visit, yet she was unable to recall my identity. I sat with her, drinking Advocaat (her
favorite) , and going through her box of old photos. Many times she came across photos of me as a
child, quickly and correctly pointing me out in the photograph. She told and retold stories from her own
childhood. Whenever she looked out the
window, she called out to my father anticipating a visit from him. Although he had not visited in the last
decade, he remained heavily in her thoughts.
Before we left, my uncle handed me a shoebox full of postcards and
birthday cards, written but not sent, to my siblings and I. My grandmother had prepared herself for the
time her memory would fail her. Unfortunately her ability to plan and complete
actions at the right time, like taking cards to the postbox, had diminished
with her memory.
I contacted my father after this visit. He subsequently phoned his mother, who told
him that a lovely woman had come to visit.
She couldn’t recall who it was.
Many years have passed since this visit took place. I still feel some sadness at losing my
grandmother to dementia. My experience
is common in spouses and family members of people with dementia. Health professionals often identify
individuals who are in a state of grieving – while their relative is still
alive. It is an extremely difficult
phase. Family members are tired from the
practical tasks involved in caring for their relative. They are frustrated and annoyed at having to
repeat answers and at listening to repeated questions. But perhaps the heaviest blow is that after a
lifetime of shared struggles, joys and challenges, they are not constantly
recognized by their loved one. The sad
and lengthy experience of loving and caring for someone with dementia, is an
experience that family members endure alone.
Grandmother-grandchild relationships are
simple. Grandmas are short on criticism and long on love. ~Author
Unknown
