Celebrating a lifetime of lessons

 Before there was Google, there was my Grandmother. 

If I had a question, she would always have an answer. That answer could be that she did not know, but my curiosity would pique hers and we would find an answer. I learned so much from her that I am torn between being blessed to have spent nearly half of her life with her and robbed of the time Alzheimer's stole.

This photo was taken a few years after her diagnosis. I had always hoped she did not know about this disease that was confusing her. She shared with me the awful secret: she knew what was happening to her.

I learned about this when she was in the hospital with an infection on her leg. We were sitting in her hospital bed while my mom and aunt talked to the doctor.

"I hope I don't give this to you," she said.

"What? You're under the blanket. I'm fine," I reassured her.

She grabbed my chin and turned my face toward her.

"No, this," she said as she pointed at her head.

It was my biggest fear. She knew. I tried to be brave and not cry.

"Oh. If you did, it is not your fault. You won't be here and I won't remember," I said.

"It's bad," she said, squeezing my hand.

"I know," I told her.

Then, to try to change the subject, I reminded her something I discovered decades earlier.

"We still have the same hands," I said, loosening my grip and putting our hands side by side.

"Mmhmm. But why do mine have these awful spots?" she asked while trying to rub them off.

"Probably because you've been punching people trying to get out of here," I joked. She squeezed my hand and we sat quietly. We didn't need to say anything else. I didn't tell anyone her secret until after she died. It was too hard for me to accept and I just didn't want anyone else to carry that. It changed how I saw her. It changed how I treated her. It changed how I viewed life.

It's easy to take life for granted when we're healthy. It's hard when life throws us these challenges. This amazing woman who was born the same year as Mickey Mouse, had her fundamental years during the Great Depression, fled the family farm with her sister/best friend to be young, independent "Sioux City Girls" before getting married and having children always seemed to be a natural at anything she did. 

Creative? She could take a chunk of clay and mold it into someone you'd recognize. I was not crafty like that, so she would take me to museums where I could see art up close. 

You know that saying, "Shopping is my cardio?" It could have been coined by my Grandmother. She never really worked out. In fact, I don't think I ever saw her break a sweat. Get her in a mall or grocery store and it was a true endurance challenge. She could spot the deals, find new things to try and make a new friend in the marathon search. It always required browsing all the aisles because you never know if you'll find something you didn't know you needed.

Hungry? She could whip up a full meal on the fly without a recipe. She always gave me a job (and made me share a beer with her) in the kitchen. It's why I was so annoyed that she didn't write down a recipe for her banana bread. I made her measure ingredients so I could write it down and make it on my own. 

This morning, I saw some bananas past their prime. I had two choices: throw them out or make some banana bread. I have her recipe on my refrigerator, so I got to work. I strayed a bit from hers, substituting stevia for sugar and added a little bit of vanilla. Instead of making a loaf, I made muffins. Once I put the tray in the oven, I paused. 

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of her funeral. 

I try not to think of the woman she was at the end. When I was recovering from my own health issues, I saw her on FaceTime. Her home health nurse was feeding her. I told the nurse she was going too fast because she was always a slow eater. When I spoke, she would look at the screen. It was so hard to see her and wonder what she was thinking. Strokes had taken away most of her speech. 

For years, she told me she envied the life I had - no husband in the way, no kids preventing me from following my dreams. I'd remind her if not for that husband and kids, I wouldn't be here. She'd pause, like I brought her back to reality, then say she was lucky. I knew she thought about the life she almost had.  The last time I saw her, I thought about that, too. How different things would have been if Alzheimer's had never entered the picture. 

I live life every day wondering if that forgetful moment is a sign I'll share the same fate. I read every article I can about this disease. I try to eat well, get real exercise every day, rest and do all the things science says may prevent or delay the disease hoping that if I follow her path I won't suffer the fear of forgetting. I know I will know that's happening because she did. I am also reminded that she still found joy in things. She still had love to give.

I had the privilege of memorializing my Grandmother, "Gorgeous" as she had trained us all to call her. I chose to celebrate some of the other amazing lessons she shared with me. Rather than keep those to myself, I am sharing them with you. If you haven't had a Grandmother like mine, we can share her. There was always enough of her to go around.