I grew up hearing about the sorrows of Alzheimer's, but, until a few months ago, I had not thought about this horrid mental disease a lot. My parents told me about how my dad's mother had suffered from Alzheimer's before she passed away, but I never grieved over this, because my paternal grandmother had passed before I was even born. As I got older, I never considered that Alzheimer's would ever affect my life.

Then my maternal grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and life has been in a crazy tailspin ever since.

My grandma calls mom multiple times a day, always forgetting that she just talked with her moments earlier. When I went to visit her recently, she did not even know who I was for the first ten minutes or so; she eventually recognized me and we had a wonderful time together. As I was leaving, she made the comment that she didn't know who I was at first because she "hadn't seen me since I was six or twelve months old," even though I had just told her not twenty minutes ago that we had seen each other just last year. I gave her another hug and we parted ways. That night, I remembered how Nancy Reagan once referred to Alzheimer's disease as "a long, long goodbye," and I am now beginning to understand why. The woman I knew as my grandma is slowly fading away, and I have to say goodbye to a little part of her each day.

So, what did I do with this realization? I created a coping mechanism . . . that ended up temporarily backfiring. My solution was to recall the good memories I have of my grandma, but I searched for the 'wrong' kind of memories. I yearned for larger-than-life memories and for profound recollections as I looked back on the past. When I did not find anything of the sort, I began to question if I even had any good memories of grandma at all. She has been on the decline for a few years now, so my most recent and solid memories are not as wonderful as I would wish, but I was so certain there were these extraordinary treasures securely packed far away in my memory. I dug deeper, so to speak, and discovered something really wonderful.

Sometimes the best things in life aren't profound. They aren't larger than life. As I purposefully resurfaced old, treasured memories of my grandma, I realized how the 'little things' I remembered were the most special to me. I remember one time she was babysitting me and sat with me for hours sculpting Play-Doh figurines. I remember how surprised I was when she gave me a brand new Veggie Tales movie I had really wanted. The dearest memory I have was when she led me into her tiny farmhouse kitchen and taught me how to make Mac'n'Cheese (a recipe that I still use and am considering writing about in another post). So while I was looking for some spectacular, over-the-top memories, I found these little gems instead and my heart is blessed to remember them.

What's my point in all this? Life, unfortunately, is short; this is a concept that becomes painfully clear when we are beginning to lose a loved one. Whether your grandparents have passed or are still here with you, my challenge to you would be to find the incredibly special, little memories. They may seem small, but they can add up to be some of the most cherished moments in your life. And if you think you don't have any awesome, little moments, look again or go and make some! Today is the best day to create some memories!