Dementia. I’ve lived beside you for about six years now and I wish you had never come. I only have one set of grandparents that I remember, and of those grandparents, you have taken my grandmother too soon. She is still living, but she is no longer my grandmother.
My grandmother, my Maw-Maw, as I call her, is a strong woman. She raised three children, lived through the second World War, and kept a household going through thick and thin. She is the one who taught me the basics of sewing, made so many memories of baking together and sleepovers with me. She’s the one who took care of me when I had to stay out of school.
You dementia started slowly. We never noticed you until you had my grandmother mixing up so many facts. Even then, we couldn’t tell who you were. We only knew there was something wrong. But over the years, you have not been kind to your host. You have taken my grandmother from me.
She barely does anything anymore. She can no longer be found sitting in-front of the sewing machine or standing at the counter making cakes and cookies. She can be found lying in bed or lying on a couch. It is nothing like my go-getter Maw-Maw.
You took a wonderful, strong, amazing woman, and turned her into a shell. I will never say thank you to you, and I will forever resent you. I wish you had never shown up on my doorstep and snuck your way in. But you did, and my family will survive no matter how you try to drag us down.
