In February of 2002 I lost my grandmother to Alzheimer's...
Ouma Jacobs, as I refer to her, was the last of my grandparents to pass away.
I was too young to remember my grandfathers. I knew my grandmothers a bit better. But, I was too young to have built a relationship with all of them.
One evening I got to watch this interesting documentary, Project Alzheimer's on Movie Magic 2. Maria Shriver, daughter to the Shriver-dynasty, was presenting the show, and told of her own father, who had Alzheimer's. Never before I related to a documentary as documentaries make me sleepy or scared like some doccies focus on serial killers or somebody that survived great trauma.
In this part of the documentary, they focused on the grandchildren of people with Alzheimer's. Hence why I shared emotion with this episode in the documentary. The kids all were aged between 6-16 and were sharing their emotions on their grandparents having Alzheimer's. Most of them teared up - not out of sadness, but fear. You could see fear's grip on them, not even trying to loosen it's hold.
During a certain part of the documentary, this one specific girl, Allissa, decided that she would make a documentary of her grandma's life. She interviewed her dad, talked to friends of her grandmother and got learn of this wonderful lady who loved hosting parties and being social. She then, at the end, went to her grandma, who was now at the worst stage of Alzheimer's. She couldn't talk, walk or focus. Her grandfather was there too, and told the girl the story of how they met, and how much he cares for her. Near the end of the visit, he then took her grandmother's hand, kissed it and smiled at her.
Okay - let me pause her quick. I am a person that strives for moments in life where I can witness true love.
After kissing her hand, her grandmother leaned forward and kissed her grandfather on the lips about three times. It was a moment where I realized, even through the Alzheimer's and decay of her once young and fresh mind, that she knew who her true love was and that she didn't forget him.
I cried. I wept. I smiled.
I never had the chance to say goodbye to my grandmother - I think my mother wanted me to not see my grandma at her worst. It was already excruciating enough for her to just phone her mother, yet alone take me to see her every few months if we could go.
My mother seldom talks about my grandma. I think she's shut the traumatizing experience away in a vault, trying not to remember the worse or not to burst out in tears.
I miss my grandparents some days so much - their wisdom and just the extra love that they have to share with the little ones they saw growing up.
Okay. So, in our one closet, with all our photo albums, I know of the one album with pictures of my grandma that I'm going to look for when I have a quiet evening again.
Maria Shriver ended the episode perfectly by saying: "I like to surround myself with pictures of my dad of the way I want to remember him. When I walk in the door I just try to go, even though I'm 52 years old, "Hi Daddy, It's Maria, your daughter." I'll always be his daughter Maria, and it's okay if I have to reintroduce myself. I just concentrate on the fact, that I am still lucky enough to still have my dad."
