The Long Goodbye

We were out in Center Point today, visiting Allen's stepmother's store. When we were done, instead of coming home to do school, the Spirit urged me towards my grandparent's house. I didn't really want to go. We are behind in school because of Thanksgiving, but I knew this was important. So we went.

My grandparents have been suffering from dementia for years. My grandmother has Alzheimer's, actually, and I wonder if my grandfather has it too.

They've been getting progressively worse for years, but I don't think you're ever ready for this day.

My grandmother did not know who I was.

I cried, after we left. They loved the kids, and the sitter asked us to come back more often. They live in Clay, which is an exit past the Trussville one on 459. As much as Zane hates the car seat, the trip doesn't get made often enough.

It's hard too. I love my Mama Sue in a special way, I guess pretty much the way everyone loves their grandmother. But she and I have always had a special bond. Laney is even named after her. She was a fashionista, as you can tell by her rockin' green hat, and my love is evident for her even as a 2 month old. I love that picture of me gazing up at her. I wore her dress when Allen and I married, and she was so proud. She helped me get into, and out of, it that day. She was so happy.

She's been gone for a long time now. The lady I used to call and ask cooking or sewing questions to. She raised 3 kids. A blond eldest daughter who danced and sang her way through life. A quiet, sweet, gentle middle boy, who never wanted to rock the boat. And a youngest son who was a giant, loud soul, but was affectionate and fiercely loyal and protective. Isn't that something?

They used to only be able to remember long ago facts, which was fine with me. We'd talk about family and friends of long ago, laughing over stories and memories. Today Sue only remembered having male children, and they couldn't remember what of our family were alive or dead. My Daddy lives on 60 acres somewhere, in Buddy's mind, and "people" keep stealing Daddy Buddy's garbage can. But Buddy could still remember and talk about Bobby Bowden, who was a childhood best friend. I always get sad now, when I see Coach Bowden, knowing my granddaddy and he are the same age. And how different they are at this stage of life.

Buddy hasn't lost his sense of humor though. We were going down the stairs, so he could show me the room he's "been working on" and he paused to pick up a bag of garbage. I said, "Let me get that, Buddy." He said, "Nah, I'll get it. I'm the garbage man around here. you know." I laughed and said, "How'd you get that job?" He said, "I had to work hard for a long time to get it, and I'll tell you what. The pay stinks!" He had the old twinkle in his eye for just a second. Then it was gone.

Laney asked in the car why he didn't make much sense when he talked. It was hard to explain that his brain was broken.

I cried, thinking that Laney, and the boys, will never know the grandparents I had. The ones who would swing with me on the porch swing for hours. The ones who made me ice cream with chocolate sauce, took me shopping and let us spend the night whenever I wanted. The ones who I spent the night with before Thanksgiving and helped get ready for the big day. Sue was an amazing cook, and could sew better than anyone you've met. She made my costume for show choir in college, and it looked like a professional made it. She made me feel so incredibly loved all the time. We went to the lake house, and would sit and talk for days. Buddy would clean my shoes and tell me how to fix things. When a boy broke my heart, he said there were other fish in the sea. When I got married, they told us to only fight when we were naked. (We've never done that, by the way...) They've been married 56 years.

I usually curl up beside her on the couch and snuggle, but today, she was distant and a tad uncomfortable, like when a stranger sits too close in a movie or at church. I scooted over to give her more room and make her feel better. I realize how selfish I sound. Can you imagine living in a healthy body, but having no mind? I tried today.

What it boils down to is that I don't want to live a day where I can't talk to and praise Jesus. I want to keep my mind. I don't want my children to know the heartbreak of my not knowing them. That would just kill me. So I asked God to protect my mind. Seal it against decay, and keep me focused on Him till the day I die.

Nancy Regan called Alzheimer's "the long goodbye." She was right. Today was another chapter in this long season of my grandparent's life. I'm still trying to absorb it, and figure out how God wants me to process it all. I rambled, and thanks for being there to read it.