On December 14, 2009, a day after my 13th birthday, my maternal grandfather, Walter Rencheck, passed away because of esophageal cancer. At that moment, my entire world was turned upside down. He battled with cancer for over a year. I was too young to fully grasp what was happening. I knew that my pap was sick, but the thought that he was dying never crossed my mind. So, when it happened, I was in complete shock. It did not hit me until the actual funeral that he was gone and never coming back. It was like being mowed down by a Mack truck. The events that followed his death made that pain even worse.

His wife, my grandmother, Dorothy Rencheck, had always been a little out there. My siblings and I never really thought much of it because, like any other family, we were all a little out there. However, when my grandfather passed, my family and I began to notice that my grandmother was a little more off than usual. At first, it was just little things. She would forget her daughter's (my mother) sons. We are twins and she was getting up there in age, so it was understandable that she would get us confused. Or, she would forget what day of the week it was. With everything that was going on, that was also entirely understandable.

Then, her memory began to decline even further. She could still remember who all the family members were, that my pap had died and that she was still in her house. But, it seemed as though her mind had regressed a bit. She thought that Jimmy and I were still in elementary school and that my sister, Julia, was still very young. She also believed that my mother, Maryann, was still attending college. This threw up a huge red flag for all of us. We knew that something was terribly wrong at this point.

Soon, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. Alzheimer's is a degenerative disease that attacks the brain and gradually becomes worse over time. We realized that she had this for a very long time, although with my pap there to keep her in check and set on her daily routine, she was still able to function normally. However, after his death, her mental health rapidly declined, causing her condition to become exceedingly worse.

Over the years after his death, it increased with little things like. where she left her purse, or if she locked the door (which she did at least 20 times a night). Then, it became names--her sisters' names, daughter's names and her grandchildren's names. We would always have to remind her who we are and how old we were. She just couldn't grasp and retain such little aspects.

Every night that I stayed with her, I would sit and ask her questions to see if I could jog her memory. In the earlier stages, it worked. I learned so much about my grandmother's life. Where she grew up, who her parents were, where they had come from, that she could speak Serbian, and how she had met my grandfather. My questions became so routine that it felt like a game to me almost. It did not last for long, though.

Eventually, it became difficult for her to even recall who we were. She began to think that my sister was my mother and that I was my grandfather's brother. And, then it got worse. Sometimes she would forget to eat or to use the restroom. She fell numerous times because she could not remember to pick up her feet when she walked. We had to have someone with her at all hours of the day. She was never scared of us, though. Somehow she still knew that we were supposed to be there staying with her to make sure that she was safe.

In the fall semester of my senior year of high school, we had to put her in a nursing home, something that she had made my mother promise that she would never do. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to witness. To see this strong woman reduced to almost a lost child was heart wrenching. She did not want to be in that home. She was very angry. She knew that she did not belong there, and all she wanted was to go home. There were so many times when we were all tempted to just take her back home. We knew we could not do that, though. We could no longer provide her with the care that she needed.

Watching my grandmother fade away from this disease is the most terrifying thing I have experienced in my whole life. We have had to watch her go from this happy-go-lucky, stubborn, loving woman to a child in an elderly woman's body. It is horrible. It is not something that I would wish on my worst enemy. Be thankful for your grandparents. As a child, I took mine for granted because they were older, and could not play with us kids. They didn't mind, though. They were still there for every baseball game, every recital, every birthday, every holiday, every day to pick us up from the bus stop, to tie our shoes, to tell us to wash our hands because everything is dirty (Dorothy had a fear of dirt). For every major event in our lives, they were right there for it. And then they weren't anymore.

Now, I would give anything to have one day back with my grandparents. One day to be able to ask them about their lives. To hear the stories that they would have to tell. To have my pap make me oodles and noodles after school, or to sit and watch soap operas with my gram. To be able to tell them that I love and appreciate everything they have done for me.

Thank you for pushing me to study in school, Pap. I'm going to be a sophomore in college next year. I miss you every day. Thank you for telling me about your life, Gram. I'm glad that I will be able to pass along our heritage. Thank you for being my grandparents.