Today I visited my grandparents in Oakland, MD.
I love Oakland, MD. I love my grandparents.
The visits are getting far more infrequent as I (and they) age.
My grandfather has Alzheimer's disease. A few years ago, I did a research paper on Alzheimer's disease and reflected on how awful it would be to experience something so heartwrenching first hand.
...And then there it was.
Growing up, my Grandma Weezie was always there. If my brothers and I were directly or indirectly involved in anything, you could look out into the audience and see her sitting there smiling in her white lizard-embossed sweatshirt and jeans. She would always drag my Pap Pap (though, begrudgingly) along with her.
My brothers and I all have such fond memories of "sleeping over" at their house in Oakland. We were allowed to choose either our uncle's old childhood room, or our father's, to sleep in. Dad's win over all else. Duh. Visits consisted of pampering and spoiling in the most extreme form. We were served dinner (usually ravioli and endless garlic bread) and then we immediately made our way to the freezer in the garage. I'm under the impression that the garage freezer was sent from the heavens specifically to make my life a happier place. Ice cream, popsicles, eclairs, baked goods....
Sigh.
Post garage freezer, we were allowed to do anything we wanted. For example, my brother once dialed 9-1-1 "just to see what would happen". Other examples include:
1) Staying up until midnight (!!)
2) Watching pay-per-view movies.
3) Eating food in the living room in front of the TV (!!)
4) Camping out in a tent on the living room floor.
Things are different now. ...Much different.
Since my grandfather was diagnosed a year ago, he has been rapidly declining. This means that both my grandparents are contained to their house in Oakland. As though that weren't awful enough, our family cannot visit as a collective unit, anymore. Pap pap gets confused and flustered and frustrated and is unable to recognize anyone. The holidays that are typically spent together...are becoming a thing of the past.
(When we were younger, the day after Christmas was set aside for my grandparents...and my grandparents only. My brothers and I looked forward to this day the most. They always seemed to unveil the gifts we were disappointed Santa hadn't panned out on, the morning before. This just made us love them more.)
Although my grandfather doesn't realize much of what's going on these days, my grandmother does. Very much so. Can you imagine? Not being able to see your grandkids play in their playoff football game? Or...not being able to make it to your son's Thanksgiving family dinner where you have always provided the turkey...10 years running.
I cried today. I don't even remember what my grandmother and I were talking about. I was drinking blackberry tea with biscotti...and she said something about life being really, really hard sometimes. I could just feel the tears welling up. And then they came. My grandfather walked in shortly after asking, "When is Louise coming home?" Louise is the name of my grandmother.
I love Oakland, MD. I love my grandparents.
The visits are getting far more infrequent as I (and they) age.
My grandfather has Alzheimer's disease. A few years ago, I did a research paper on Alzheimer's disease and reflected on how awful it would be to experience something so heartwrenching first hand.
...And then there it was.
Growing up, my Grandma Weezie was always there. If my brothers and I were directly or indirectly involved in anything, you could look out into the audience and see her sitting there smiling in her white lizard-embossed sweatshirt and jeans. She would always drag my Pap Pap (though, begrudgingly) along with her.
My brothers and I all have such fond memories of "sleeping over" at their house in Oakland. We were allowed to choose either our uncle's old childhood room, or our father's, to sleep in. Dad's win over all else. Duh. Visits consisted of pampering and spoiling in the most extreme form. We were served dinner (usually ravioli and endless garlic bread) and then we immediately made our way to the freezer in the garage. I'm under the impression that the garage freezer was sent from the heavens specifically to make my life a happier place. Ice cream, popsicles, eclairs, baked goods....
Sigh.
Post garage freezer, we were allowed to do anything we wanted. For example, my brother once dialed 9-1-1 "just to see what would happen". Other examples include:
1) Staying up until midnight (!!)
2) Watching pay-per-view movies.
3) Eating food in the living room in front of the TV (!!)
4) Camping out in a tent on the living room floor.
Things are different now. ...Much different.
Since my grandfather was diagnosed a year ago, he has been rapidly declining. This means that both my grandparents are contained to their house in Oakland. As though that weren't awful enough, our family cannot visit as a collective unit, anymore. Pap pap gets confused and flustered and frustrated and is unable to recognize anyone. The holidays that are typically spent together...are becoming a thing of the past.
(When we were younger, the day after Christmas was set aside for my grandparents...and my grandparents only. My brothers and I looked forward to this day the most. They always seemed to unveil the gifts we were disappointed Santa hadn't panned out on, the morning before. This just made us love them more.)
Although my grandfather doesn't realize much of what's going on these days, my grandmother does. Very much so. Can you imagine? Not being able to see your grandkids play in their playoff football game? Or...not being able to make it to your son's Thanksgiving family dinner where you have always provided the turkey...10 years running.
I cried today. I don't even remember what my grandmother and I were talking about. I was drinking blackberry tea with biscotti...and she said something about life being really, really hard sometimes. I could just feel the tears welling up. And then they came. My grandfather walked in shortly after asking, "When is Louise coming home?" Louise is the name of my grandmother.
