still THERE

As we walk through the nursing home’s automated doors, the sobering smells of urine and bleach waft into my nostrils. I sigh, reluctantly readying myself to make the most of our visit.

There she sits, talking to her caregiver, as her tiny frame disappears into the haggard velvet couch. Surprisingly, she looks like her old self. What happened to Nona’s greasy hair? Her clothes are on the right way, and her shoes are matching. Must be a good day to visit.

Today, and every agonizing day since her diagnosis, her eyes that once shimmered with adventure and independence now serve as the sole reminder of her disease: two orbs of confusion and hesitation.

“E—Ellie?” Nona says with uncertainty.

In shock she still remembers my name, I gently sit down next to her. “Yes, Nona?”

“How are you?”

“I’m doing well, busy with school and sports. How are you?”

She thoughtfully replies, “I do love it here. And, oh! My caregiver is so nice— what is she doing? Looks like she’s feeding the—um—”

“The fish?” I offer, barely keeping up with her wayward shifts of topic.

“Yes! F—fish. They’re so cute. They like to see them when they visit us.”

“Who visits you? The children?” I ask, confused.

“Yes, they do. It makes me so happy. To see them. I like to feel strong!”

She laughs, her peals of joy brightening the room. Nona doesn’t fully understand her words—quite honestly neither do I—but through the fumbled mess of conversation, a new realization strikes me: despite the sad, dark, reality of Alzheimer’s gradually stealing memories and bodily control from Nona, her joyful and positive personality still shines brightly.

Suddenly, the beginning strains of “Hey, Jude,” by Nona’s favorite band, the Beatles, play through the speakers. Immediately, her eyes widen as she recognizes the song.

Twirling around carefreely, hands in the air, smiling ear to ear, she stands up and begins to dance, the song rejuvenating her.

The pure bliss illuminating her face teleports my mind to the happier days when Nona crafted her treasured memory books as gifts for our family. Day after day, she sat at her computer, her glasses gradually slipping down her nose, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, reflecting her joy as she recalled each memory through the photos.

I savored climbing onto her lap while she toiled, asking endless questions about her projects. Always willing to satisfy my curiosity with the loving patience I am reminded to show her now, Nona never ignored me, answering all my questions in great detail. Soon, a comfortable silence would settle over us as her fingers, flying over the computer keys and mesmerizing me, created the photo albums that now allow her to relive the memories Alzheimer’s steals from her.

Maybe some part of Nona knew that the photo albums would serve as the permanent keepsakes of the memories she would soon lose.

I listen to the lyrics, “Hey, Jude. Don’t be afraid. You were made to…”

Don’t be afraid… maybe that’s what makes it Nona’s favorite song. My parents tell me she was brave, but watching her dance with everyone in the room, I realize she still is brave. Battling Alzheimer’s induces unimaginable challenges, yet Nona fully embraces it with an optimistic and open approach. She appreciates others’ kindness, and she tries to make people happy. That’s enough for her. It’s her purpose.

Nona calls out to me, “Ellie! Paul McCartney’s waiting for you!”

I laugh and cross the room to my Nona, taking her hand.

Some things never change, like the feel of her warm, comforting hand in mine.

Like a glass maze

We’ve seen each other from the start.

You’ve always been there I just can’t seem to find you

I’ve been a bird Running into the walls Your voice echoes throughout But I still can’t find you

I think one day the endless panes will shatter But even then How can we reach each other Running through a field of shards