As two out of three of this blog's followers already know (and one will soon be finding out, provided she keeps reading), my grandmother died last Sunday (September 9th, 2009 at 7:44am, to be precise). She died of Alzheimer's, which is very sad because it meant she died in a lot of mental pain and unfortunately because of her arthritis she was in a lot of physical pain as well. While I'm certainly not happy that she died, I am glad she was finally able to pass because she was trapped in a bad place for longer than anyone's grandma should be.
I thought I'd share some of the stories from the last few months of her life, since some of them are very sweet while others are a reminder of what a little monster Alzheimer's is. First let me start with the bad.
What initially started off as forgetfulness quickly developed into the fabrication of memories as Grandma tried to connect together what she could still remember. She accused my grandfather (her husband of 60 years) of cheating on her with a woman living in the next town over, and eventually of having children with her. She forgot her youngest child, my aunt, before eventually accusing her of marrying my grandpa. She started asking people where her father (who has been dead since the 70's) was, and occasionally referred to my grandpa as her father. Sometimes she switched to 'Dark Mommy', as my mother and her siblings called the phase when Grandma threw and destroyed things, shouted things, acted generally violent and not herself. By the end, she had lost muscle control, was confined to a bed and was asking people to get her a shotgun so she could kill herself, because even though she couldn't remember what was going on with her, she knew that something was very wrong.
But Grandma still had some lucid moments, and some very ponient moments up to the very end. At her funeral, my mom was telling me about how loving my grandparents were in the last few months. It caught my mom and her sister off-guard because they (and I) could never remember their parents being very affectionate to each other, but by the end, my mom said she could really see how passionately they loved each other.
When my grandma was accusing my grandfather of cheating on her, he sat there very calmly and said 'No Bernice, you're the only woman I've ever loved. I've never loved another woman.' And when she died he sent my aunts and uncles on a search for a picture my grandma sent him when he was in the Navy, because he said it was his most precious possession and he was afraid she might have torn it up as 'Dark Mommy'. At the end, they had a moment together where my grandma said she wouldn't have traded her life for another without my grandpa. During her funeral and through the long Catholic service, Grandpa never took his eyes of her coffin.
It wasn't until they started carrying out Grandma's coffin when I (and my aunt and youngest cousin) became overwhelmed. I was okay with Grandma dieing, but it was upsetting to see my poor grandpa in so much silent pain. The woman he loved for 60+ years isn't with him anymore and the way she died must have been so emotionally devestating for him.
There was a moment of silence during the funeral and not being one to pray to God I prayed to my grandma, that she's able to make it to her heaven, that she's able to find and be with my aunt Marianne again and that my grandpa finds them when he dies. Unfortunately my grandfather, being a hardcore Catholic, believes that everyone spends some time in purgatory after they die before they're allowed into heaven, which I'm sure is only putting him through more mental unhappiness right now. Personally, I think Alzheimer's was their purgatory.
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