Today brings you another dull day.
For once even the sky agrees with you. Its cast out a dark hypnotizing shade of blue-gray and the clouds are gathering over your head.
Nothing is right. You see your life as an empty road and all the important things in your life are missing. A runaway mum, no dad, no siblings. Everything you've ever wanted has taken a chunk of your heart and left the place.
Thank god for your grandmother. Without her, you'd be one of these homeless kids on the street who are passing you now.
But even with your grandmother, God refuses to let you have it your way.
How do you even begin with that?
How is it that it comes so unknowingly and grabs everything you've got left?
Why your grandmother of all people?
It makes you want to scream doesn't it?
So loud, that you could startle the world and make it deaf.
It starts raining heavily and its drops splatter you with its cold uneasiness. Although you hate the rain, there is something comforting about it that makes you want to stay forever.
It captures you the way everything is washed down and cleansed.It allows you a rare moment of happiness.
But what after that?
The door gives you a solemn creak like a warning to turn your back and run away from this cursed place.
The house of sadness. Where everything has faded away in the mists of their own devastation. Your grandmother sits there gently swaying in her rocking chair gazing out of the window that hides her from the outside world.
Because coping with the inside bleakness is hard enough as it is.
You take a chair and sit next to her, taking in her sandalwood fragrance and gray wispy hair. You hold her hand and dare to look into the depths of her hazel nightmare.
She gives you a smile to reassure you.
But you know she doesn't recognize you.
She tries so hard. Maybe she's frantically going through the hardware files in her head trying to grasp all the knowledge that she can before the Alzheimer's deletes all of it.
"Its me grandma. Ashley."
She blinks and you hold your breath.
"Yes, yes. My Annabel, you've come home.."
You try to hide the desperation in your voice.
"No grandma, Its Annabel's daughter Ashley"
She turns to you with tears in her eyes. Recognition is written slapdash in the brown watermarks behind her irises
"Aah, yes. Did you have breakfast?"
Breakfast was ages ago; its evening now, but you don't correct her.
"Ashley" You look at her to respond back but her eyes are gazing out of the window again and you realize that she's repeating your name so that she can try and recall it later.You do the same things with her every evening instead of soccer practice with the rest of the girls. Soccer has always been your things. But it doesn't matter anymore.
And so you take out the carton of old photographs and spread them around, showing them to her while sipping chamomile tea. You introduce you to the same photos and same people and same occasions because she needs remembering and even though you do this every day, it's still like seeing new photos to her. Every single day and even that doesn't become her memory.
Sometimes she'll vaguely recognize a person but can't remember the name and sometimes when you tell her of someone, she'll remember the name but forget the person.
It's like losing a person altogether because she has no identity anymore.
But sometimes behind the caged person she lives inside, you see a flicker in her eyes.
A spark of hope and love and dreams and wishes.
And most of all, despair.
You hold on to her while she sobs her heart out on my shoulder because somehow that despair blanks everything out.
And the worst thing is that you can't do a thing to change the situation.
After you've tucked her into bed, going to sleep is the hardest part because it's a mixture of frustration, prayer and tears. And of not knowing if next day will be the last that she recognizes you.
Sometimes in your dreams she appears and she's alright and happy.
And those dreams are the best part of the night.
But what if the next day, the disease takes a turn for the worse?
What after that?
(life will still go on.)