I went to go see Baba (my grandmother) yesterday in her fourth, and what will hopefully be her final, room at the long term care facility. Yesterday was another good day for Baba from what I could tell. So far, out of the three times I have gone to see her over the past three weeks, she has had good days on all of them. I was going to drive down by myself, but upon letting my mother know that I was going, she offered to drive both of us down as she was going as well with clothes she had washed for my grandmother and a picture to hang in her room. Baba was in her usual spot when my mom and I arrived; sitting in a chair by her bed, reading a book. She is a reading machine who is in constant need of new books. She remembered my mom instantly, just not when she was there last (the day before), and also my son's name and exactly how old he is. Myself on the other hand, I am pretty sure she knew who I was as she remembered my son's name, she just happened to forget my name. I am still totally fine with her not remembering my name, most likely because she has not lost any of her personality yet. Its tough to see her memory slowly fading like a sun slowly on the decline at the end of a beautiful day, but it will be harder for me when and if she loses her personality and becomes someone totally different than I know. My mom related to me how it was tough to see her mother, who used to pride herself on being self sufficient and in such command of who she was, to not even be able to make a phone call. Yet, she still looks and acts like the Baba I know, albeit with less memories of her life and those around her. I have come to terms, at least for now, with Baba's current state. She still gets overjoyed when we walk in the room, happy to have visitors, and will gladly spend as much time as possible talking to us, enjoying our company, and relishing in the fact that she has visitors. In a way, it almost seems as if her diminishing memory allows her to enjoy our visits more as she can't always recall when the last time someone visited was, even if it was just the day before. Yet for some reason, she always remembers my son and how old he is, 14 months.
My mom recounted to me how the day before when she went to visit, Baba made a comment that there was "too much cotton" in her head. To me, that speaks to the fact that she is at least partially aware sometimes of what she is going through, although maybe not the implications of it and why it has landed her in her current residence. Looking back at the last year or so and the indications that Baba showed of her diminishing mental capacity, I wonder sometimes if she knew all along that her head was being filled with cotton. Some of her actions, especially her overwhelming desire to be alone more and more before being moved to her new home, make me think that she didn't want others to see her mental state and to think less of her for it. Perhaps she was even "in control" of it to a certain extent, knowing when the "cotton" would be extra thick during the day and when she needed to escape the company of anyone so she could be alone with her predicament. For such a strong willed person as her, it makes sense that she wouldn't want other's knowing how her memory was failing her. Those times when she didn't want to eat with her family were perhaps times when her head was overwhelmed with the encroaching "cotton" and she felt the need to be alone to deal with it. I really don't know. Perhaps she didn't know exactly what was wrong but felt a change within her mind that indicated something was wrong. No one wants to admit that their memory is failing them, and perhaps in an attempt to keep her situation hidden from others as long as possible, she made her escape when she knew her memory would pose problems. I think that when she took the quick downward turn three weeks ago, that was the moment when she couldn't tell anymore when her memory was not going to be there for her to rely on or not. When she couldn't control her actions, or know when to escape to her room, that was when the rest of us finally saw that she couldn't be alone anymore. Its almost like she wanted to keep it hidden as long as possible, knowing the inevitable outcome but not wanting to face it amongst family. Maybe that's why she turned violent near the end at my parents home, maybe not. All this is speculation on my part and we will have no way of ever knowing if I am correct or not.
Baba's life has been like a long, long day. In fact, all our lives our like one long day. Our birth is the rising sun, creeping slowly up over the horizon, slow to see the world and learn about it. We each cast our own glow, radiating out, touching others with our presence and warmth, more and more as we rise and grow, as we learn and expand our reach. As every day has clouds in it, so to are our lives sometimes filled with clouds. Times when we retreat from others, fall victim to disease or illness, or simply fail to be the sun in other's lives. Yet the clouds can never fully hide the sun, it is always there and always visible, if not to all, at least to some. We track our path through the sky, rising, peaking, and slowly heading towards our sunset, what should be the golden days of lingering warmth and slow retreat. Some exit gracefully, beaming warmth till the last second of life; others kick and fight, clouding over so that there are rarely any glimpses of the sun that used to warm those around. Baba is reaching her sunset, not clouding over yet, just getting perhaps a little hazy. She still warms those around her, beaming her smile, impacting others in a positive way, there just seem to be clouds lingering around, waiting for her to slip up and cover her warmth and who she is. Its almost as if the sky is slowly graying at the edges, leaving less and less of the sun visible. Her persistence is tangible though, continuing to shine for now, not willing yet to let the clouds take over and disguise who she really is. I hope that the clouds never do completely take over, hiding her from her family, stealing her warmth, yet none of us knows what the future holds. If we look the periphery, the clouds look ominous and bleak, yet if we persistently look to the sides at what could be, we will inevitably forget the sun still shining in the center, still craving that human touch and warmth. For me at least, I will focus on that sun, my Baba, till the I can't see it anymore or the clouds completely take over. Even then, the sun will leave a residue of warmth and grace for a long time to come.
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