Last night, I had a dream. It was a simple dream. I was sitting in a restaurant and my Grandma came over and said hello. That's it....just hello. It doesn't seem like much, but to me, I woke up relishing in the dream where my Grandma knew me. She saw me, knew me, and spoke confidently to me, her granddaughter.
I think about my Grandma all of the time. As a child, playing restaurant and taking her order (by the 3rd, 4th, and 5th times when my Mom and Aunt had (very kindly) shoo'd me away), my Grandma still had orders for me. To traveling to wonderful destinations: Hawaii! Disney World! and even the more mundane: The Shops in Pigeon Forge and Southern Living idea houses (which, as an adult, I now adore). I'll never forget the traveling around with my Grandma. This includes the traveling around town at first in the old, beat-up, green Honda and eventually in the overpacked minivans.
One of the many moments when it occurred to me that my Grandma wasn't able to function as before was when her keys were taken away (and I had been told that her cell phone had to be replaced several times because she would leave it in an undisclosed location). The GPS locator on her car wasn't enough anymore.
If one had to argue that there was something more devastating about Alzheimer's disease than the diminishing mental facilities, it would be the loss of dignity.
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