Grief is weird when they're not actually gone.

Sometimes, even processing involves a process.

**Trigger warning: this post discusses the effects of Dementia on both the diagnosed and their loved ones, as well as the grief associated with those effects.**

At this point, I can’t recall when my mother started mentioning that something was off with my grandmother. It was definitely within the past two years, but it may have been within the last year. Being about 300 miles from home has its perks in the form of easy plane, train, or automobile travel, but its detriments manifest in missing out on the day-to-day.

Regardless of how long it’s been, things have expectedly gotten much worse. In the time that has passed, we’ve had to move Gram out of her house and into two different facilities - the second being more assisted than the first; sell her car; remove her access to her phone and social media; and we’ve been advised to only visit her, as opposed to taking her out for family functions and other trips outside of the facility.

Let’s rewind a little though.

My Gram is a crocheting, delicious-cookie-baking lover of Barry Manilow who was born right as World War II was ending and, like many from her generation, had an alcoholic father and a mother who took it all with stride until she couldn’t anymore and divorced him. She finished high school but didn’t go to college, and she was married by 20 with her first child (my mother) being born right before she turned 21. By the time she had her second and third child (a daughter and son, respectively), she was divorcing my grandfather for having an affair. Gram raised three kids on her own and worked her ass off just about up until the pandemic hit in 2020.

I became her first grandchild when she was 44 - something at which I marvel but understand, given the times. Needless to say, her and I have always been close. She spoiled the hell out of me, while also being intolerant of my bullshit. No disrespect meant to my younger brother and three out of four cousins, but it wasn’t until my youngest cousin came around that I really had any competition for being Gram’s favorite. ;-)

I can remember lying with Gram on the couch while she rubbed my back, but that also meant I had to give her a shoulder massage in return. I remember crowding into her lap with my brother while she played a bunch of online computer games - Slingo and BoxerJam’s Out of Order and Strike a Match were our favorites. Perhaps the best memories were Gram helping my brother and me take bags and bags of cans and bottles, leftover from whichever massive backyard bash my parents or aunt and uncle hosted, to the redemption center so that we could return them for five cents a piece. Even as we grew older and grew out of sleepovers at Gram’s, and even as our outings turned into breakfast dates when I traveled for a visit home, time with Gram was perfect just the way it was.

Up until about Christmastime this past year, I would call and talk to Gram about every two weeks or so. I would catch her up on work, life, etc. while she lamented to me about not working anymore and being by herself more than she’d ever had to be. I’d say within the last six months of 2022, I started to really notice the forgetfulness and I could hear the fear in her voice as she recognized that her memory was fading. On several occasions, she cried to me out of remorse for forgetting a dear friend or family member’s name because she knew she was supposed to have recalled it.

The thing about grief is that it’s hard enough when the person is gone, but damn is it impossible when they’re still with you. After talking to her so routinely since I moved down to DC, not being able to do so has been extremely tough to grapple with. I spoke to her last week while my mother was visiting and, while I’d like to believe she knew it was me, I think that it was mostly her convincing herself of such. I needed that phone call though, and I’m incredibly grateful for that moment and the moments I have left.

I can’t get to the last paragraph of this post without acknowledging my mother and my aunt and uncle (her siblings) - with a huge honorable mention to their spouses. This past year has been ridiculously hard on them, but one thing I can ALWAYS count on is their love for, and support of, each other. I have watched throughout my entire life as they have laughed, cried, celebrated, and traveled together, and they raised my brother, cousins, and me in a very similar way. Each of their own strength is powerful but their strength together is unstoppable, and the strength they have shown throughout the past year leaves me awestruck.

Dementia moves quickly - so quickly, in fact, that I imagine the grief while Gram is still here and the grief when she’s not will blur together and feel quite similar. But I refuse to let either kind of grief overpower the memories I have and, more importantly, the love that I’ll always feel for my Gram. And I’ll be sure to travel home a few extra times while I still have the chance to rub her shoulders.