I've been meaning to blog again for quite some time, but I never seem to make time to do so. Today, I decided to blog, once again. Unfortunately, the topic I want to blog about isn't bright, but it's not grim, either. It's more about a person and our shared experiences. It's a small piece of a very big chapter in my life that hasn't quite ended, but the end is sort of stuck, waiting for time to pass.
Those of you who know me closely may have heard me reference an elderly lady that I once took care of. I met her when I was 9, she 71. Yesterday, she turned 87. Rewinding a bit, it all started when I saw that she needed help getting off of a local transit bus while carrying too many grocery bags for such a small person to handle. The rest is history.
About 6 years ago, she was put into a nursing home to rehabilitate after a fall. The very day she left the nursing home ready to be on her own, she fell again. She hasn't left the nursing home since. To the rest of the town, during her life, she was the most annoying, demanding lady you could run into. Because I was 9, I didn't really see that. I saw a different type of person, one looking for some sort of friendship. And what's funny, now that I look back, is she sought friendship with me, because I was too naive to try and take advantage of her belongings or money, for what little she had anyways. And, so long as she took me out to eat once in a while, I was the happiest friend in the world.
To provide a little more substance to our history, she is very much like a grandmother to me. I can tell you countless stories about her life, her family, and also share endless memories of all of the fun things we did together. I'll bet you I rearranged the furniture in her house 200 times in the 10 years she lived there since I've known her. I can't imagine how many times before that in her then 70+ years she had either done the same or convinced someone else to do it for her.
We used to eat out a lot. Servers instantly sighed when we walked in the door, because she usually took about 3-4 hours to eat, and her order was very particular. Similarly, we ordered in pizza often, and we always called for a new pizza almost every time, because "something was wrong with it."
I'm really not doing justice to our history, mostly because my mind is distracted with what this blog post is really about. Someday, maybe, I'll write out more of our history so you can have a chuckle.
Yesterday, she didn't know who I was.
Just like that, 16 years of friendship, gone. Dementia has taken over.
I sat there, talking with her like I usually do. I reminded her of who I was and brought up some of our memories to try and spark something. But really, she just sort of agreed with what I had to say, and looked like she was almost "forced" to believe me, because I was bringing up accurate facts about her interests, tastes, etc. Before I left the nursing home, I spent a few minutes alone in her room (she was in the dining room during my whole visit as it was supper time). I looked around, thinking to myself, "This is what it could be like in 50 years, or sooner, or later." Her earthly possessions have been whittled down to a few pictures and stuffed animals; the rest (bed, entertainment center, so on...) will be there waiting for the next person to move in when she passes.
I guess the point of my blog post is this: Spend every damn second you can making memories. Does my tie-around from above make sense? Nope. Spend every damn second you can making memories so that you're remembered, even when you can't remember yourself.
Take it easy.
