Nana ~

"Remember the good times that we had? We let them slip away from us when things got bad. Clearly I first saw you, smiling in the sun. I wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one.....

And I will remember you. Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by, weep not for the memories.

I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. I'm standing on the edge of something much too deep. It's funny how I feel so much, I cannot say a word. We are screaming inside, oh, we can't be heard.

And I will remember you. Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by, weep not for the memories.

I'm so afraid to love you. More afraid to lose. Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose. Where once there was a darkness, a deep and endless night, you gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light.

And I will remember you. Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by, weep not for the memories.
I will remember you. Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by.....

Weep not for the memories....

Weep not for the memories."


She knows she's been silent for way to long. It's just that she's been stuck in a sort of modern day prison. It's a prison she's free to leave, but she can't bring herself too, because it's one that her Nana is forever in. What's real is no longer reality, and the dear little woman who stands before her, accusing, paranoid, suspicious, unkempt, and unreasonable is still the Nana who fixed her bruises when she was little, baked cookies with her, sang songs with her. Where does the line get crossed from granddaughter to caregiver, she wonders? Does it ever? Now that she's been pulled free, there's this heavy feeling of guilt. If this, I could have done more.....if that, I could have helped her more. For a long time no one believed her or maybe they did, but didn't want to hear the darkness that her Nana, their mother, had fallen into. She was left to her own devices, on crutches, to care for this stubborn, fiercely independent Irish woman. And she feels as though on some levels she's failed, or she's the enemy....even though she has not and is not. You see, finally the children have come to accept and recognize that Nana is no longer a care giver, but one who must be cared for herself. She's not a child and yet her basic needs are so similar. There's a great place, appropriately called Sunrise, that would provide Nana with her own apartment, but would attend to her basic needs, all meals would be provided, laundry and cleaning done.....things that we cannot give her or she would not accept from her own family.

She was only there a month alone with her Nana, but it felt like a year. Time has lost all meaning for Nana...and she cannot bring her back. And yet, she's broken beyond all points of giving and tolerance. It's hard to remind oneself that it is the disease and not your loved one who accuses you of purposely misplacing things around the house, interfering, not caring, and saying terrible things about those she loves and who in turn care deeply for her. Nana is lonely and upset because she thinks no one visits, and yet when they do visit or come to do things for her around the house, she's upset, because their 'in her business.' It's difficult, and it's easy to stand back and say, "it's the disease, you cannot argue with her, you cannot remind her that people have visited and called." She reached a breaking point today and had to break out of the house and do laps around the block on her crutches.....so angry and frustrated at what was coming out of Nana's mouth and unwilling to accept when 5 minutes later, Nana wants to have tea and cookies and is so pleasant. You know it's the disease, but when this plays out, 24/7 it is so difficult to walk away from and let go of at the end of the day. I could not do it alone and yet I feel as though I've failed on so many levels, as if I should have been able to do everything. It's easy to see her needs, but to respond in a way that she still feels respected as the grandmother and maintains that basic human dignity that is her right, is a fine line and difficult. There are some things you cannot ask her to do or remind her of....because you are her granddaughter. And she knows it would break Nana's heart if she could hear herself and see herself if she was in her right and sound mind.

She cannot imagine the terror and confusion and frustration that must surround her Nana daily because of Alzheimer's. The reality that is yours and nothing like the reality that is hers. As her aunt put it, "it would be like me telling you you went to a carnival today, went on the upside down roller coaster, ate funnel cakes and then came home." When you know absolutely, for sure, you did no such thing. That's what it's like for her....and so to Nana, everything you are telling her must seem like a lie, and so in her eyes, when those clear moments have passed, it seems like her family is doing some terrible things. Nothing makes sense anymore.

And it's sad. It's awful. It's terribly tragic and profoundly desperate....

You can no longer make memories or remember those that have happened. You reread those newspapers for hours, you keep making cups of tea, you watch the same tv show over and over again. And you get up, and do the same thing the next day. You're struggling to make sense of what is going on and trying so hard to remember what has happened. The things you hear from others don't make any sense and can't possibly be true because you don't remember them and therefore you haven't experienced them for yourself......

Even if you were at the carnival, on the rollercoaster, eating funnel cakes....5 minutes later, you would have no clue what had just happened.

A few nights ago, I was awakened at 3 or half 3 in the morning by a scream and then wailing and moaning in the night. Terrified and cursing, and expecting the worse, I fumbled on my crutches to the stairs, and went up as fast as I could, on my butt, using both legs to get me up the steep stair case. All the while yelling for my Nana and saying it was okay, everything was going to be okay, I was coming. Then hearing silence. I reached the top of the stairs, having dragged my crutches with me, turned on the hall light, and heard Nana asking, "Rachael....what are you doing up here, are you all right? What's going on?" I said, wanting to cry and holding it in, "No Nana, I heard someone cry out in the night, and crying. I wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm so glad you're okay." "Yes, I somehow made it up those stairs, can you believe it?" "Okay, Nana, sorry to have woken you. Did you have a bad dream?" "You don't remember, it's okay. Go back to sleep now, everything's fine. I'm so glad you're alright." "No, I don't need help on the stairs, I'll manage to get myself down them." "You just lie back down and go to sleep. Sweet dreams this time, Nana." "Okay, love you. Good night. Sleep well." I slowly slid down those steps on my butt again. I shut off the lights. Went back to the sleeper sofa, and cried myself to sleep. What if something had been wrong? I was powerless to do anything.