My grandmother has Dementia. Also known as Alzheimer’s. She forgets a lot. My family is lucky that she remembers who we are, but everyday is different and we have to remind ourselves that she might not remember us tomorrow.

I am telling my story for those people who also have grandparents with Alzheimer’s. For those people whose grandparents cannot remember what they ate that morning or where they are, or even who their own family is. It’s a horrible disease that takes away the person you’ve known your whole life and turns them into a stranger whom you are saddened to be around.

Growing up, I was always excited to travel to see my grandma. She was old fashioned, which is the opposite of my mom's mom, but that’s what I loved about her. I am not talking in the past tense and saying, “she was” because she is gone, but because she is not the grandmother I used to know. She forgets what day it is and whether or not she ate the meal before. She forgets where she is and how she got there. But she remembers us. My dad, her son, who I can see holds back his emotions to appear stronger for everyone else. My mom, who is so incredibly supportive and helpful with her and who tries to stay strong for my dad. And my sisters and I, who remember visiting her house and looking at old photos, never imagining that one day we would be visiting her in a nursing home, where she is in the same clothes from the day before because she cannot remember when she last changed outfits.

But don’t let me make her sound so sad; she is still as comical as ever. She jokes about everything, even jokes about her forgetting things. It is amazing how by the expressions on our faces, she is able to tell that we have heard the question she just asked about five times before that. She uses context clues to fill her in on what is going on and to catch on to things happening around her. Dementia, forgetting, does not make you stupid and does not make you lesser than everyone else. My grandmother is not lesser than others because of this disease; she just simply does not have the memory that she used to.

I have to say that the hardest part of her Dementia is our having to pretend like everything is “normal.” Having to act as though we have not heard the same thing said three to seven times in a row in the five minutes before, having to answer without sounding as if it is a burden to, having to smile through the pain of knowing that her brain is not allowing her to remember simple things like the day of the week, and having to hold onto the memories of what she used to be like, in order to not get completely lost in the person this disease made her.

My family and I consider everyday with my grandmother a blessing. We try to push past the idea that this disease is masking person who she used to be. We recognize that there could be a day when she does not recognize us at all. I never want my grandmother to feel so alone that she does not know anyone, including herself. I cannot imagine pain that that would cause her and my family. So for my grandmother’s sake and my family’s sake, I hope that the day she does not recognize us, never comes.