Precious Moments

Happy 91st Birthday Abuelo!

For 25 years of my life, my grandfather never got my name right.  Whether it was his thick accent or his sheer will to change my name, I'll never know.  All I will know is that up to about seven years ago he always called me "Jerrica", and for the past seven years he hasn't called me anything.  He has Dementia/Alzheimers, honestly, I'm not really sure which or both he has because I have heard both terms used in reference to him.  Since we are being so honest today, I don't really care to truly find out because I'm mad at both conditions, and I have been for the past seven years.  Yes, I know it is extremely mature of me to be mad at a disease, but I am.  It stole my grandfather from us, and it steals so many people's loved ones all over the world.  I have tried to avoid seeing him as his mind got worse, he was a stranger to me.  A sometimes rude stranger that made me feel on edge because I never knew what he was going to say next.  Adding to the awkwardness, he forgot his English and communicating with him got even harder because he mumbled in Spanish and my Spanish is not great at all...obviously you can throw out the notion of him repeating himself, because by the time he finished saying something and I could compute, he was already somewhere else mentally.

Playing dominoes with my father and my niece, watch out he cheats!

He is in the hospital now, with a bunch of different things going on that the doctors aren't very clear about, which is partly disconcerting and partly understandable...the man is 92 years old, it doesn't take a PhD to understand that his body is deteriorating, just be up front about it.  It is a very frustrating and emotionally exhausting situation for my mother and her sisters.  He has good days and bad days, he doesn't know where he is and why he is there.  I went to see him last weekend and all I could do was sit there and hold his hand.  We had a brief second where he looked at me and said my name, something he hasn't done in seven years maybe more, cause like I said before this feels like it has been going on for so much longer.  That brief second is one of the most precious moments in my life, one that I will hold onto like a jewel that I found.

Our Moment

I've heard some in the medical industry say that he doesn't have a care in the world right now and it is just us that are struggling.  I respect their opinion and their heart in trying to make me feel better about the situation, but I don't agree.  I can't imagine anything that would suck more than to not know who you are and why you are here on a moment to moment basis.  Yes, it is torture for us because if my grandfather died today, I couldn't possibly think that this is the day that he left us, in my heart he was taken from us a long time ago.  This shell of a human is no where near the sharp entrepreneur that I once knew and got my drive to hustle from.  The fact remains that as his family we have to face this shell and remind ourselves that it really is him.  That even though he doesn't know who he is that it is our job no matter how we feel about it to treat him with the same respect, dignity and honor that we would if he was here in his right mind.  That is really difficult to do, and it is times like this in life where you have to brave forward and do right even though it is difficult, I can't hide behind the ignorance of youth and being emotionally immature.  I may have been 7 year old "Jerrica" in his mind, his granddaughter that he would try to pass off as his daughter to make him look younger to the ladies after my grandmother died...but holding his hand and speaking to him I had to be 32 year old Jerrica talking to him not caring whether I understand his mumbles in return, just plainly thanking God for the lucid second and the fact that there is still some time to get a few more seconds before he is truly gone from us.