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The Grandmother of My Dreams (00000195)
1 comments
2.7/5 (104 Votes)
My grandmother used to watch over my brother and I when my parents were both at work. She was really the grandmother of my dreams. She always had health problems to fight, but mentally she was in top-shape. She was very interested in world events, understood about those less fortunate, always did the crossword puzzles, had a good sense of justice, and stood up for young people. She was very strict, but also very compassionate. Over the years, I became more like her, and that just strengthened our relationship. Three years ago, we started to notice that she was rapidly developing dementia. In-home care was no longer sufficient to keep her house in order, and all of her kids worked or lived to far away, so she had to go to a nursing home. She was initially reluctant but she now feels comfortable there. Since then, I have only gone to visit two times and I don't want to go any more. Not because I'm too lazy or because she means nothing to me. It hurts my soul when I see what she's become. She doesn't recognize her own relatives anymore and understands less than a 5-year old child. The last two times I was there, I burst into tears when I saw this lump of humanity. I did the best I could to hide it from her so she would not get upset. I also felt like she liked me and enjoyed the visit. My mother, who always visits told me that it was fine and wasn't a problem, but it still bothers me. I keep thinking about my grandmother and then I get sad. She can't do anything about it, but the visits really hurt me. I'm really out of sorts afterwards. But on the other hand, I feel like I'm letting her down. And what if she dies and I hardly visited her.

Posted on 19.11.2012, 12:24:18 CET

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EbonyVampire
newcomer

Comment from 09/04/2013, 07:22:27 CET []:
My grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer's when I was 14, and went downhill fairly quickly. I only visited him once, because he didn't recognize me at all, and it really hurt. He didn't make it to the end of the year, and to this day, I hate myself for not visiting him more, no matter how much it hurt. I think, even if it hurts, you should try to visit her. When my parents asked why I didn't want to visit, I used the excuse that I wanted to remember him as he was, but now, I always see him sitting in that damn hospital bed asking my mum who I am. Please don't let yourself feel this regret.
  
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