A Tribute

I wrote this as a tribute to the grandfather of a dear friend but also for all the lives and families affected by dementia. To the caregivers with infinite patience, to the survivors who live with it and the ones we miss, including my mother-in-law who suffered with Alzheimer's for many years, this is for you.

                                                                                      -Tamara McLanahan

 

He was a kind man. The one the kids could always count on to have a lollipop or two in the pockets of his button down cardigan. Who would smile and be first to join in if they were playing a game of catch. Always there to assist should a kite become tangled in a tree or a puppy become lost. No pets ever stayed lost for long under his watch. His eyes crinkled when he smiled and his laugh was infectious. In summertime, when the ice cream man would drive down the street he was first in line, and should any child be slightly short on change, they weren't for long as he kept plenty of coins for just such a need. And so it was with sadness that his family watched as he started to become ill. No sudden onslaught of a disease. No, this was more insidious, much more devastating. A slow eating away of self, first confusion and the ebb of his smile. He began sitting in his favorite chair, staring into space with eyes slightly glazed. The jokes he used to tell so frequently diminished or were begun but never finished. Just sentences that trailed off into mutterings. He still hugged, wrapping strong bear arms around and giving a loving grunt as he did so, but those watching noticed that after a moment or two, he might need to pull back and look at the face of the one he was hugging. As time went on, he recognized fewer of those faces as he examined them.

He'd always enjoyed fishing and that he continued to do. The baiting of the hook, casting into the pond, those were ingrained since childhood and a comfort. But as the disease progressed he found it harder to find his favorite pond. The grandchildren started accompanying him more frequently, holding his hand as they skipped along by his side. Even the local children kept a closer eye on him as he'd walk around the neighborhood. They may not have known precisely the nature of his illness, but in the way of children, knew something had changed and as he'd always been there for them, reciprocated with childlike innocence. But a few adults were less kind, not understanding the nature of the disease. Seeing only a once vibrant and take charge man slide slowly into what in their less kind moments they called "a doddering old fool." Sometimes under their breath, sometimes a bit too loudly for him to miss and unfortunately, understanding them in his more lucid moments.

Then one day, another grandchild was born. He set his sweetened ice tea on the side table with a loud crack and stood. Suddenly galvanized into action, he announced to the room that he was going to see the newest addition to his family. Those there looked at him, used to his eccentricities and went back to their activities. He walked into his room and pulled out his finest Sunday church suit. Polished his shoes, took his crisp white shirt off the hanger and added his favorite suspenders. He looked in the mirror when he was finished and smiled. Some might say he looked bespoked as he winked at himself  and he felt better than he had in years. Walking back through the house with a confident stride, snagging his best hat off the coat tree, he made a beeline for the door. One spoke up to ask where in the heck was he getting off to. He turned and addressed the family.

"I have a new grandson and I aim to see him."

It didn't matter that it was raining, that it was a good hour away to where his grandson slept soundly on his first full day home from the hospital. He only knew he needed to see him, hold him and look into eyes that might be glazed but he knew would crinkle when he smiled as he got older. Who would always be there to help with a kite and would have an arsenal of jokes to make family or friends chuckle. His grandson would always have enough change to cover any shortages when the ice cream man came through the neighborhood.

And so the rest dressed quickly and drove in the deluge to the house where the baby slept. He relaxed in the chair holding the tiny addition, his loved ones scattered around the room talking and laughing. He lived a few years beyond that day. It was the last good day he had, some would later reflect. But if there was one good last day to have, he couldn't have picked a better one.