I was finishing college by the time my Grandmother’s Alzheimer’s became very apparent. I realize, now, that she was very good at hiding her confusion from us. My mother and I remember the first Thanksgiving that she came to the house and did not bring her apron. That is when we knew that Grandma was changing.
Watching a loved one battle Alzheimer’s is like watching a slow motion disaster happening in front you and you can’t stop it. It took me a long time to realize that even though she does not remember me, I can remember everything about her. I don’ t ask her anymore if she knows who I am, I just say, “Hi Grandma, it’s Joy.” Of all of the grandchildren (there are four), I was closest to her. I was the oldest and I was a girl. She taught me very important lessons, like how to braid hair and how to make kick ass chocolate chip cookies.
She was instrumental in helping me recognize my dream. When I was very young, I decided I wanted to be a musician, specifically an orchestral musician. Grandma was my first audience, and even though I am sure I did not sound good, she was always willing to listen. I am very grateful for her support.
Currently, she is in a nursing home that specializes in Alzheimer’s. When I visited this last summer, I brought my flute and I played for her and the other residents. It was very moving and very surprising that after a few notes of a recognizable tune, they all started singing. I have read that music has a way of helping those afflicted to remember. I was so glad that twenty years after my debut (just her at the dining room table while I cracked my way through Twinkle Twinkle), I was able to connect with her one more time.
I was not a runner until I was an adult. I hated running. I was not good at it at all. I used to walk and listen to my music and one day I decided to run to the corner. It felt great. That was 2009. I decided that if I ran to the corner, maybe I should run around the block. Running around the block led to 1 mile and then I did some halves and my first full marathon.
I do not live close to home. My family is in NJ, and I live 2000 miles away in El Paso, TX. I am running the NYC Marathon for Run to Remember, because of a Buddhist monk. One of Thich Nhat Hanh’s quotes is “Your actions are your only belongings.” I just had to act. I just have to run. It is not just for me. It is for my grandmother, my mother, my sister, my family, and for all the granddaughters that should never know that memories could vanish.
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