It’s that time of year all over again. I can feel the autumn wind wrapping around each curl of my hair. The dead leaves that lay along the cobble stone are crunched under the heavy state of my heart. Today is the anniversary of my Grandfather’s death and I am reminded of something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I replay a moment that made clear what I had known all along about his fate, but didn’t want to believe. I walked carefully to the edge of the pond to put my hand on my grandfather’s shoulder, when turning to look into my eyes he said: “I know you belong to me, but I don’t know who you are.”
I was raised insulated from despair. As a small four.year.old girl, a Barbie lost to my brother’s evil clutches was traumatic. It always brought me to tears, to be the little seven year old girl who was not allowed to play the boy’s baseball games.
My biggest tragedy at thirteen was facial acne that I’d attempted to cover up beneath pounds of makeup. It was these silly situations that had me looking for console. Grandpa always had his arms open. As he took me to kidnap my brother’s action figures, taught me how to slide into home plate and washed the makeup off my face, he shared conciliatory anecdotes that always seemed to ease my pain. One by one, telling the stories of peoples’ lives, his motivational speeches held me captive for hours. There was never a dull moment, from family scandals to fighting in Vietnam. But as years passed and I matured, our relationship faded. My grandfather, unfortunately, started becoming less of a priority to me. Way back when, sharing everyday evolved into twice a week, then twice a month and finally, only on holidays.
Tragedy struck unexpectedly. Grandpa was a victim of Alzheimers. It was a tragedy in itself to come to terms with the fact that my only grandfather would slowly forget that I existed, but the greater burden came when I started to see that he would cease to remember the moments in his life that made him who he was. Any frivolous debate, warm hug or tear that has ever rolled down his cheek would be erased from his memory. Gone forever. He had come to a moment of a time worth self reflection by swimming through memories and reliving life-changing moments; but my grandfather had never experience the satisfaction of the mental deluge of a flashback. His memories physically warped. Alzheimer’s was no longer something abstract. The disease was real, and there was no cure for it.
The years immediately before his death were dark years. I witnessed a man I loved hand over everything for which he had ever cared. I had to grapple with regret based on our bad relationship. As I was saying what would, as it turned out, be my final goodbye, I can’t say that I had an epiphany, but it was certainly a transformative moment. I wondered if perhaps, instead of a setback, this disease was a license to really live. As this life was less to find ourselves and rather to push ourselves toward who we wish to be. Maybe Grandpa was blessed. He was able, in just about every way possible, to rediscover the world around him and everyday to recreate himself, which ironically showed me that despite my past, I have the power to create my own future. The humanity of human morality put all of my petty grievances with the day-to-day in perspective. Rather than racing about reliving old failings or worrying about tomorrow, Alzheimers showed me the joys of stepping outside the societal rat race to enjoy the beauty of now. Through intensive contemplation and self-evaluation, I’ve learned how precarious life truly is. You would think Alzheimers would have prevented Grandpa Rosati and me from witnessing the beauty of life. This was just another disease years ago but now it has changed the way I see things and gave me a sense of gratitude towards life. It’s through this seemingly joyless moment that I’ve discovered that one can only appreciate the brightness of a star in the deepest dark.
Today I sit here next to the pond a changed woman from three years ago. And my silver lining, in this dark cloud, is that I finally have succeeded in discovering.
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