My grandparents from Texas traveled up here to partake in the activities of this week/weekend, aside from the wedding itself. Now, anyone that has ever interacted with my grandparents knows that it requires a mental preparation to do so. I mean that in the most loving way. If you haven't had the pleasure to meet them, let me provide you some background information.
1. They're Texans, and they'll make sure you know it.
Whether it's my granddaddy's cowboy attire, consisting of a flannel, cowboy hat and boots, or my grandmother's remarks about Texas' superiority over Missouri, you won't question the pride in their hometown. "Sorry ma'am, we only serve Mr. Pibb here." "Well, in Texas it is ALWAYS Dr. Pepper." Guess what, grandmother? You're in M-i-s-s-o-u-r-i now!
2. They love us.
Shocker, right? You can see the excitement portrayed in their smiles with every opportunity to come visit us. Oh, and since I can remember it was a requirement as their grandkid to refer to them as grandmother and granddaddy, so that's what they've always been to me. They were incredible parents, which shaped my father into who he was. Do they love each other? Well, that's questionable sometimes. But for them, the value of family beats everything else.
3. They bicker.
Boy, oh boy, they argue. We've always joked and said that they are the real version of Frank and Marie from Everybody Loves Raymond.
No, seriously. I'm convinced someone met them and they inspired the characters from that show. My grandmother's famous line: "Oh shut up, Bob!" You could spend 5 minutes with them and think to yourself, what an unhappy life. Nope, probably just them on a good day.
And the last thing you really need to know is that they're getting old.
This is where the laughing stops and the sadness begins.
My great-grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease towards the end of her life. I remember visiting her in Texas, her not knowing me, or even knowing herself, really. And all I could think was how do you forget? What was it like to forget everything? I never wanted to find out for myself and I'm sure that was racing through her daughter, my grandmother's, mind at the time too. Now, as my grandmother is growing older, so is her mind. Sadly, she is following the tracks of my great-grandmother, her mind trying to indicate how she arrived there. Right now it is only short-term memory loss she struggles with. And with this visit, I clearly see the damage.
It's a sensitive line to be walking on, trying to find when to mention that you had already answered the question she previously asked, or that she already told you that story. Or whether to mention anything at all.
Last night I had to make a trip to Bonne Terre to borrow my cousin's dress for the rehearsal dinner. I didn't want to travel alone and I knew she would want to join me. On the way down there, we talked about why I was driving there, the wardrobe possibilities for her rehearsal attire, and so on. I picked up the dress and on the way back home, she asked me where we were going tomorrow (tonight). Our entire conversation on the way there, forgotten. I told her and I guess my face gave away what I was trying to hide. She knew I had told her before. Though our current conversation was destined to be forgotten after a few minutes, I still decided I didn't want to push it under the rug; there's only so much room under there.
I then asked her questions about it. What it was like, how frustrating it was, if she completely forgets or if it's an "on the tip-of-the-tongue" feeling. She told me and then I realized the value of old memories for her. She's almost at the point of having no recollection of present events. People say don't live in the past, but what choice does she have? Talking to her reminded me of the importance of memories and having the appreciation for them they deserve. It reminds me of one of my favorite verses: "The memory of a righteous man shall be a blessing." Proverbs 10:7 You have no way of knowing which memories she will remember, and which ones she won't. Her mind decides that.
Her memory fading is a heavy sight to observe. She repeats herself a lot and tells the same stories over and over, but I don't mind. No matter how old she's getting, some stories never do.
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