My grandfather has dementia and I don't realize how much I miss him until one of those old expressions comes across him. He hasn't started to forget us yet. There are many things he can do, probably more than we give him credit for but the man who used to give me all the answers is now looking to others.
His essence is untouched. He is gentle and thoughtful as always. Once when I was small my leg slipped between two beams on our pool deck and it scraped me up pretty good. Grandpa was the first one there and as he lifted me back to the deck there were tears in his eyes. I asked my mother later why he was crying and she said it was because when we were hurt it hurt Grandpa even more. She died twelve and a half years later and it changed him. Now he's changing again.
Several days ago, after enduring 85 winters, Grandpa's barn collapsed. My cousins and I remarked at the absurd synchronicity. The barn, built by our great grandfather 3 years before Grandpa was born, falling under a heavy winter the year Grandpa's mind started to give out.
It's easy to become melancholy, easy to see what just isn't anymore and never will be again. But I'm reminded that nothing is ever over, it's only different. He's still with us and we'll spend the rest of his life mourning what he loses inch by inch or we'll be grateful we're the ones who get to be with him as the changes come.
Every little thing that comes is regarded as some degree of good or bad based on nothing more than a judgment we make at the time. It can be a reaction or a choice. Today I'm choosing to really be with him, to not cry for what is happening but to love it instead because it's part of him and because being his granddaughter is one of the greatest things I'll ever get to be.
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