Dementia

Ali Papinchak
Sep 8, 2018 · 4 min read

In my second semester of college, the class was required to read a book called “Tuesday’s With Morrie”. In short, Morrie was a professor who suffered from dementia and it was a story about him and one of his students, Mitch. After reading the book, all students were required to write a journal, and make a personal connection to it, or write about a lesson we learned. This is my connection.


My grandma is nearing eighty-four years old. Over the last four years, dementia has taken my best friend for me. It’s been a long time coming, but our family never thought anything of it in the early stages. We’d actually joke about how she would always tell the same stories every time we came over. It’s scary now to think of how fast her suffering progressed. She has lost ability to walk, talk, use the bathroom on her own, and feed herself. Sometime she doesn’t even recognize our faces, but when she does, hers lights up. It’s the best feeling in the world. Before she was put into a home, my grandma was long gone. Who is this woman that was afraid of her husband of almost sixty years? Where did my grandmother, my best friend, my rock, my whole world go?

I remember the summer in between fifth and sixth grade. I called her every single day of that summer; we’d talked for hours. It hurts to know that I will never be able to pick up the phone and call my grandma ever again. My grandma took my brother, sister, and I on many adventures as we grew up. It was always a blast going to Grammy and Grampy’s. We had our own annual holiday festivities, our own dinnerware, our own blankets, and a designated spot in Grammy’s bed to snuggle up with her at the end of the night. She’d always call me her “sweet pea“ and tell me that she “loves me to the moon and back.“ I will never hear, “I love you to the moon and back, sweet pea“ from her lips again. What I grew up doing, and hearing is now just a memory. I would give anything to get her back, or go back to how things used to be, even if it was just for a day.

My grandma doesn’t know that she’s sick, and maybe that’s a good thing. It breaks our hearts to see such a beautiful soul in a body that has no ability to do the things she used to do. It is such a scary feeling knowing that any visit could be the last. I am always left questioning myself. Did I tell her I loved her enough? Does she know the impact she had on my life? Did I ever say thank you? I want to know how she feels. I want to make her proud. I want to do the best I can do for her. If she knew the milestones I’ve hit, the progress I’ve made, and choices I’ve made, would she be happy? Would she be disappointed? Watching my grandma slip away from us so fast has been a very emotional battle.

What I’ve learned from this is how to give love to one another, and to be selfless. Yes that’s my grandma..but that’s my dad’s mom, and my grandfather’s bride. I have to be strong for them. The greatest love to give someone is to be selfless, to put someone else’s feelings for us. It is the patience to understand that you are not the only one who hurts. My grandmother is the most beautiful human being, inside and out, she is a warrior. Watching her suffer has taught me to hold my loved ones close, and to be thankful every day for the simplest abilities that I take for granted.


I wore my heart on my sleeve while writing this paper. It wasn’t easy. I appreciate each of you for taking the time to read this, and hopefully you’ll take something away from this.

I love you, Grammy. ❤️

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