Around Christmas time, my family and I went to visit my Grandpa, who suffers from dementia, in his nursing home. When we got there, he recognized my parents and my two siblings but not me. He even asked me if I was my little sister’s daughter. With a heavy heart, I smiled and nodded my head, as there was no point in correcting him. Later, I tried to choke back the tears when he asked me for the third time if I am was one of his nurses. Sometimes, I just want to look him in the eyes and yell, “it’s me, Grandpa! It’s Kelly! I’m your granddaughter!” but I know that won’t do any good.

As the rest of my family tried their best to make conversation with him about the weather, the Chicago White Sox, or anything in between, I sat and watched him fold a napkin. Grandpa loves taking the napkins from the dining hall and folding them into tiny little squares. When he’s done, he neatly places the napkins inside his dresser drawer and immediately begins on a new one. Nobody really knows why, but it keeps him busy.

I sat there watching him fold, fold, and fold until he couldn’t fold anymore. It broke my heart to think about him doing this all day for the rest of his life. I imagined his daily routine as being something along the lines of:

Wake up, fold a napkin, eat breakfast, fold a napkin, watch TV, eat lunch, fold a napkin, eat dinner, watch TV, fold a napkin, repeat.

I was pulled out of these thoughts when I realized that Grandpa was asking me a question.

“How’s school going?” he asked.

“It’s good! I like it a lot.”

He gave me a smile and a thumbs up, although I was sure he hadn’t heard and/or understood my answer. He then got up, slowly but surely, and placed his finished napkin in the drawer. Once he was back in his chair, he turned the TV onto the football game. Relief was in the air, now everyone could just watch the game for a minute as opposed to making small talk.

Because of the way my chair was positioned, my back was to the TV and I was facing my Grandpa and Dad. As I got up to pivot my chair, I noticed something about them. They looked almost identical- legs crossed at the bottom, back slouched, hands folded, and eyes glued to the TV. The sight alone made me sit back down in my chair before I got the chance to move it. I sat and stared at the two of them and began to notice all of their similarities, as if I was seeing them both in a new light. Their faces were similar, although my Grandpa’s was more wrinkled. They had the same smile and the same nose, and both of their eyes seemed heavy and tired. It was in that moment, looking at my dad and Grandpa side to side, that I realized what my worst fear was. I had always thought that is was snakes or spiders, but boy was I wrong. It was something much more complex and frightful than those things- that someday, my Dad will become my Grandpa.

That someday, he too will sit in his nursing home and fold napkin after napkin.

That he too won’t know the difference between his grandchild and his nurse.

That he too will only get excited when the dining hall is serving mashed potatoes.

And most of all, I fear for the day that he forgets me.

I always knew it was a possibility that my Dad could one day have dementia too, but I never really let my mind dwell on the thought too much. But sitting here, looking at them both, I can’t help but imagine myself in this same situation in 25 years. Only this time, I would be watching my Dad fold the napkins.

My mind began to spin. I just didn’t understand. My Dad is the best guy I know, he has taught me everything, and he has given me so much love. He’s been to every soccer game, been there for every milestone, and has provided plenty of hugs and laughter. How could he have the potential to one day forget it all?

My thoughts were put on hold when it was time to say goodbye to my Grandpa, which I did with a tight hug and a smile. As my family and I were leaving the nursing home, I found myself wanting to walk close to my dad. On the drive home, I made an extra effort to soak up everything that he was saying. All that I wanted was for life to stay like this, I wanted to freeze this moment right here, knowing that someday I’ll wish for these days back.

It was on that December day that I promised myself that I wouldn’t take my days with my dad for granted. That I would appreciate these times, because I won’t be able to get them back. I also promised myself that I would visit my Grandpa more often, even though my heart breaks everytime I do.

I love my dad more than I can put into words, so the thought of losing him to his own mind is something that I dread. So, until that day, I am going to cherish all of the little things we do together, and I advise everyone else to do the same with their Dads. Life is short, and you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.