I know you don’t remember, but I sure as hell do. I remember the day I was told that the both of you were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. Unsure of what that truly meant, I was soon to find out the hard way. I didn’t realize that knowing this disease was about to come with great responsibility. I had no idea what life was going to be like in the next couple of years. I didn’t know that I should be enjoying these last few moments while you still remember me. But most importantly, I didn’t realize how much this disease was going to change my life. The way I think, the way I prepare for situations, but most importantly, what it was going to teach me. It definitely threw me a curveball; one that was going to knock me off my feet.

Alzheimer’s disease has taught me to appreciate every moment I have with you. To take advantage of every time I can see you. Although you might not understand why I came to visit, let’s enjoy the moment. You might not remember sitting in your living room watching TV for hours, but I will remember it as we cherish this time together. You may not understand why I go into your room to look at your jewelry; just know I want to get a sense of who you are. Simple moments like this allows me to put the puzzle pieces together, figuring out how your life was and how it will be become part of mine

Alzheimer’s disease has taught me to love everything about you. There may have been times where I didn’t appreciate what you had to say, but I now realize it must have meant something to you. Although you watch movies all day and listen to Irish music, that’s okay because this is what makes you happy. These are some of the things that make you special and unique. This showed me who you were and what you have become. This allowed me to love you just because you’re my grandma.

Alzheimer’s disease has taught me to reminisce about my childhood. This includes the good and the bad. Although you don’t remember the times you took me shopping all day, that’s okay, I do because I had blisters on my feet after that walk. You might not remember taking me on a haunted hay ride, but that’s okay. I can remember how we were very scared. These memories are pointless, yet are necessary. These are the moments that matter the most when I think about you.

The last and final thing Alzheimer’s has taught me is to accept you for who you are. Soon you may not know my name, but that’s okay I will remind you. I will stand and fight for what you believe in because you’re not able to. Eventually you might get angry and upset with me, but that’s okay. You are just trying to remember life in front of you. Although you might repeat yourself over and over again, that’s okay. I will listen because who knows when I will have to say goodbye.

Although you can’t remember or understand what’s going on around you, just know we are behind you taking care of everything. Being that you are going through this, so am I. Alzheimer’s may have taken your memories, but they haven’t taken away mine. So even though you can’t remember, just know I will be reminiscing for us all. I love the both of you; forever and always.