I still miss her

Grandmother, my dad's mom and Papa's wife for over 72 years, died this morning around midnight. I received the long awaited call from my dad at about 9:15 this morning. It didn't come as a surprise as we have participated in her slow mental and physical decline over the past 8 or 9 years with dementia.

Even this past weekend when Dad and I met up with the kayak's on the Colorado River we talked about the possibility of her passing soon. I feel as though much of our family, including myself, are not overly emotional about her death because we have been preparing for so long. What I mean by that somewhat strange comment is that we have been a part of the horrible deteriorating process of dementia.

At first she would forget small everyday things that were easily missed or ignored. Then Papa, in his ever-so-clever ornery ways, began exploiting her forgetfulness by convincing her that she still owed him 20 bucks--every day! He would just smile and chuckle while covering his mouth with his cupped hand. The situation soon became more serious as she would leave the house in her car without knowing where she was going or how to get back. After the family finally agreed to take the keys, she began taking walks without notice. She was once found face down on the pavement with some heavy cuts and bruises. I think I was a senior in high school at this point and remember stopping by their house almost every day before or after playing golf, knowing that her mind was slowly slipping. I can still remember during this time period there were times I looked into her eyes and saw fear. I really believe that at times she knew there was something wrong.

Then there was a period where the family struggled with what the best option was for taking care of her and so she hopped around from assisted livings to nursing homes. I used to visit her in the De Leon nursing home when I drove from Baylor to Andrews while at college. These were probably the most difficult years to bear as the 'not herself' moments became more and more frequent until they were the majority. Yelling uncontrollably she coined her now famous lines, "Help me! Help me!" I have found myself laughing at this many of times; it is probably a way of avoiding/covering up the awfulness and sadness of the situation. If I remember correctly, she hit her peak weight at this time from eating so often because she couldn't remember when she last ate. Add a few years of always thinking it is time to eat and one gets quite heavy. As she gained so much weight, her mobility declined and she became more and more bedridden. At this point she slowly began to loose weight because she had almost no physical activity.

During these four years of visits while I was at Baylor, her memory of us began to fade as well. Every visit became a game of whether or not she would recognize me or whoever else was came. These years were my grieving time for Grandmother as the wonderful cook and classy lady that I knew was no longer with us. There was no more making sure I had washed my hands before I ate any of her food; no more pound cake in the glass cake dome on the bar; no more loving Grandmother who defended us from pesky Papa who was always trying to steal our dinner.

So, all that said, her last few years spent at Permian Regional Care Center, aka the funeral home with a fancy name, were not as difficult to bear as she was no longer herself mentally. It was just a matter how long her physical health would endure. My visits became more about Papa. I would spend time with Grandmother because I knew it made him happy.

If I have learned anything in all of this over the past 8 or 9 years, it has to be devotion. To see him move from town to town to be close to her, visit her every day for so many years, and finally, with his own health deteriorating due to worry over her, moving into the same room at the nursing home and pushing his bed next to hers and lowing the armrests in order to sleep next to his wife of more than 70 years. Did I mention they were married for more than 70 years! He did not even come to my wedding three years ago because he was afraid to miss a day with her. What devotion. I love my Papa and Grandmother very much and appreciate this legacy they have left together. I am glad for the times I will still have with him, however few they may be. And as for Grandmother, I still miss her.

CB