Dementia

"Thank you uh... who are you again?"

Those soul crushing words were knives in my heart. A perfect substitute for physical pain. The cold air filled my lungs as I walk the empty street corner, scarce of civilization, but teeming in advertisements, attempting to regain the life that once bristled the streets. The life that had bustled and that could not sit still. The go-getter's. My grandmother.

The familiar yet always changing was undergoing construction for a new store, one that they swear will get the town out of poverty. That's what they promised a month ago with the plantation exhibit about an hour away, that had closed down the week of its arrival. That's also what they promised with the aquarium down the street, and the history meausum a couple blocks down the bakery, they even promised financial resuraction with a little shop which sold buttons and other small items. All of which had gone under of course, but it brought temporary peace to the small borough of constant despair and hopelessness. Although, I'm not sure that's the best, but it's inevitable.

When faced with fear, a body of weakness dies not test and evaluate on results, they repeat the same formula that had once failed them and will do so many times after. All to distract themselves on the obstacle and make no progress on manuevering the situation. Eventually, fear succumbs them. Feeds on their broken repeated attempts to defeat it's mass metropolis of demonic like feelings and beliefs like it's ham on Christmas day. They don't face fear with a broad eye, analyzing every detail and cranny of the dilemma. They tremble at defeat, not taking into consideration that that's what it wants, and you're already losing. The mere mention of defeat sends a shutter through the spines of this town. They don't even realize, they already lost.

Breath in...breath out...

I remind myself this over and over as my body loses all structure. My shaky breaths is the only thing filling the air around me, and the only thing I can see through my slightly foggy glasses. As my weak legs autopilot to my destination, I realize I am almost there already. Only a couple blocks away. I can make it that far, right?

I think back to that day, her birthday. I had gotten her a sewing kit, a cliché grandma gift I know, but she loved it. Her eyes sparkled as she opened up my tightly wrapped skinny tablet, she loved to open presents wrapped in wrapping paper.

"Ohhhh! I love this so much! You remembered that I lost my sewing kit in Tennessee last month! This is so special, maybe even the best gift I've gotten in 12 years!" She scrambled for words. It was adorable, and so flattering! Had people really not remembered? Probably. Nobody really remembers when she says things like that. I do though, I listen intently other stories. While extremely boring at times, I still pretend I'm interested in her repeatitve tales of her riding horses, her first kiss and even how she snuck away from her family and gotten married.

"Thank you, uh....who were you again?"

Those words struck me hard. I stepped back a little, trying so hard not to make it obvious that it upset me greatly. Had she really forgotten me? After she had just blasted about me and my present? After I had just gifted her the best present she's gotten in 12 years? After all this time of me spending tedious hours with her solving puzzles, reading books published back in 1923, reminding her over and over again that I would always be there for her?

I stopped.

The brick house loomed over me as a suspicious glare also seemed to linger my face. I had never felt this way about visiting her in the past. Maybe she had forgotten that I was coming today what if she's cleaning something she's not supposed to? What if she's outside gardening and contracting bacteria? What if she's trying to pet a rabid cat? What if she forgot about me completely? What if she-

"Jamie?"

I paused. My uptight throat tried to make sound but nothing came out. It wasn’t my name, but at least she made a true earnest attempt instead of making it blatant that she had forgotten me.

“Come inside, won’t you?”

I simply nodded. I couldn’t make any noise , I was absolutely and completely mute. As I walked inside the familiar cozy brick cottage, my hands clamped, I noticed the warm feel in it. A mock to my sudden discomfort.

The fireplace in the living room by the two couches sitting across from each other was where I spent my childhood Christmases, where I would open presents. The sewn together rug settling the coffee table made an appearance in my memories too. I would frequently play with my dolls on that rug, then make them climb mountains on the coffee table, knocking over every cup in sight, full of not! The sightseer of the room though are the two rocking chairs at the front of the room. Where grandpa and grandma used to sit together. They would read together, sing together, eat together and do just about anything together in the two rocking chairs.

The room filled with nostalgic jubilance as I remembered them reading “Oh the Places You’ll Go!” to me as a child long ago. A custom that every grandparent and grandchild did on their 10th birthday in my family. They believed it would inspire every grandchild to pursue a great dream and do great in the future. It never really did, but it was still fun to do. It’s painful to remember the day grandpa went to the war, the last time we saw him. He had died saving another man’s life, literally taking a bullet for him. He was a hero in and out of battle and everyone in this town respect his name. There is even a memorial for him at the rundown park across from the only elementary school of its district.

“Coffee?” She asked, holding up a steaming coffee pot from the kitchen.

“Grandma put that down. That’s steaming hot you’ll burn yourself!”

“I’m fine! Really I am!” She raised her voice, the first time in years. I was astonished, I drew back. “I’m sorry, I’ve been kinda tense lately, old age ain’t for sissies ya now?” She tried a warm smile, it was always nice to here her slight southern slang in conversations. “And sit down will ya? You act as if I’m gonna hop up and run at ya with a knife!” She joked as she directed me to the nearest couch.

I slunk down heavily into the soft and gelatinous abundance of pillows. She was right, I am really tense, almost visibly shaken. I tried to relax my clenched hands and focused my breaths.

“Ya know, I kinda forgot that you were coming over today. But I’m glad you are, we need to talk.” She handed me my coffee, steaming hot. She stood, not reaching for a chair or anything, just stood, frozen in time, as if the memory of our future topic had paralyzed her, fear stricken.

“Grandma, come sit down. Am I in your spot? I’ll stand, really I don’t mind-“ I got out of my seat, standing with her, like two of the Queen’s guards on duty.

“No, I think you need to sit down for this...” she rejected gently. Her tone was worrying, a clear quiet and tame appearance, but a subtle urgency and despair in depth. I sat back down, slowly yet calm, trying not to make the situation any more uneasy than it already was.

“Yesterday, I went to the doctor’s office-“

“YOU WENT BY YOURSELF?!”

“Yes I did,”

“Who drove you?!”

“ I walked there.”

“You WALKED there? Do you have any idea how much trouble you could’ve gotten into? Thank God you’re okay! Do you know how bad that is for someone of your age? How bad that could’ve ended? Did anyone see you? Was it busy? Did you-“

“Would you stop interrogating me and treating me like an infant? I can take care of myself most times, I don’t need you to keep on surveillance, I swear, I’m fine for the time being, I think I can manage myself after 78 years.”

Her words made sense and were a clear wake up call for me. I felt awful. I had made her feel like an baby that needed a constant babysitter. I had made her feel less of herself and probably diminished her self dignity. She can make coffee by herself, she can go places by herself, she doesn’t need me all the time. I needed to give her some independence and self worth. Starting by letting her tell me what she needed to.

“To keep It short, I visited the doctor’s about my decline in memory and they diagnosed me with dementia. This causes me to forget things easily and have an irritable behavior. I’m sorry I have to make you go through this, but I swear you don’t have to look after me anymore than you are, I can still do things independently it’s just- Gene, are you okay? You look pale.”

I choked on my coffee. Dementia? How would I not be able to take care of her more? She has a mental disability, a mental disability that makes her unable to do many daily functions. I was unable to think, unable to breath, unable to move, facing fear.

“Riley,”

I looked up, she had gotten my name right for the first time since her birthday. I realized then I had a hidden tear navigating itself down my red cheek which was that hue either due to the weather or the news of my grandmother, my loving, caring grandmother having a life crushing illness.

She put a hand on my shoulder and leaned down to my level.

“It’s going to be okay...”

I looked up, her caring eyes staring at me empathetically. She had always be there for me, comforting me on my low days, during my failures, my disappointments, even my first break up. She was always there, the first one to consult me.

I grasped her in a warm and appreciative embrace. Freely sobbing, letting tears run down to her shoulders, still not making a sound since she’s told me. She responded to the hug, wrapping her arms around my grief stricken body. We exchanged no words, every time I tried to talk or apologize or thank her she would gently quiet me, slightly rocking side to side.

The fireplace warmed us through that evening, still in the same position during sundown. I offered spending the night with her, having spare clothes and blankets in the house. She accepted the offer. I got my place ready where I was to sleep, the couch across from the other where my grandmother was to sleep. It reached darkness as we drank tea and talked. Talked for hours. The fireplace lighting softly lighting the room, it’s fluorescent orange glow reflecting the room as we recalled past memories of sadness, love and fear.

The moon loomed brightly through the windows as we talked, tributing the idea of the underlying complication looming over us. Maybe it was good to sometimes distract yourself from your issues for a bit.

“Well, we better head to bed now, goodnight Jordan.”

“Goodnight grandma.”

She got my name wrong but for once, I didn’t really mind.

“I’ll always be there for you...”