Grandpa

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have picked out that I was in Pennsylvania this past weekend. What you might not have known, was the reason for my trip: my grandfather's 80th birthday celebration. All of his children and some of his grandchildren gathered to celebrate with a party. What you also might not know is that my grandfather has Alzheimer's.

Grandpa and Aunt Becky looking at the album my grandmother had compiled for their 50th anniversary.

It had been over 7 years since I last saw my grandfather, before Alzheimer's had taken hold in his brain. The last time I saw him, he was watching his wife battle cancer. Back then, he had spunk and was adamant about what the U.S. should do about Iraq (nuke it).

Let me tell you, seeing my grandfather now is like seeing a skeleton of a man who lived long ago. He had no recollection of who I was and I mostly received blank stares from him. I had been forewarned as to the extent of his memory loss, but nothing is ever really real until you see it for yourself. And when it's real, it's like taking a cannonball to the stomach, that's how hard it hits you.

Dad being duped out of $5.

At first, it was incredibly hard to take. He is not the man I knew. He's not the man who offered Snickers bars to me and my siblings when we visited the Cleveland Zoo. He's not the man with strong political opinions. He's not the man who was so proud of his granddaughter when she studied abroad and sent postcards from all of her travels.

Grandpa dancing with Aunt Becky to What a Wonderful World

Once I got past the initial shock of what Alzheimer's is doing to my grandfather, I was able to enjoy my time with him. Because, and it's funny, Alzheimer's is a disease that forces you to live in the moment. There is no past, there is not future. There is only now. Everything you know about a person is out the window.

Grandpa with his four children

So who is my grandfather now? He is a man who loves listening to live music- he is the one who sings and dances along (and he has a nice, booming voice). He is a man with a sense of humor, telling (false) stories about his past. My favorite is the story he told (repeatedly) about one of his Great Danes eating the sandwich right out of the mailman's hand. 

Me with my sister and brother. We did not plan to match each other.

And then there are the strange things he now believes. By his telling, he worked in the Pentagon when it was bombed, and this was during World War II when bombs were dropping everywhere. He believes he worked with Oliver North, and had a cat named after him. He now proclaims to be Catholic and crosses himself often (had and my grandmother attended the Church of the Brethren for decades after leaving the Catholic Church). And, sadly, my grandfather believes that my father is his brother, a brother he never had.

But seeing how happy my grandfather is when he introduces his brother, well, you can't deny a man that. And that is what I took away from this weekend. Seeing my grandfather smile, seeing him tear up because of how blessed he felt to have so many people there to celebrate his life, that is what counts. 

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