The Goddess Speaks Brandi-Ann Tanaka |
Precious present
with grandmotherI have always believed that challenges create the greatest potential for positive change and inspiration in life. That is why my grandmother has been able to teach me so much in her progressing stages of Alzheimer's disease.
Don't get me wrong, I would never wish this illness on anyone. Losing everything and everyone around you slowly is scary, frustrating and extremely sad. Yet, it is during these times that my grandmother has taught me the most about life, and I am grateful for her and what she has shown me.
Before she developed Alzheimer's disease, she was a different person. Back then, I was not close to her. I thought of her as a strict disciplinarian, someone who worked hard and unable to let go enough to have fun or relax. I remember cringing whenever she spoke, anticipating her scolding tone, even for something as minor as taking a bath. She would say, "Go bocha. You never bocha yet! Go already!"
My cousin would say she's not the typical grandmother, the cute type who talked to grandchildren sweetly, let you get away with anything and give you plenty of hugs. She was more militaristic. A hard worker all her life, she was always busy cleaning, cooking, sewing or making something. Rarely did I see her sit down to talk story or just laugh.
The woman now resembles so little of this grandmother that I can barely recall how she used to be. Today, my grandmother is much calmer. At the first stages of the disease, she remembered enough to know that she was starting to forget things. Her favorite words became "bakatare," or "stupid," and "wasureta," or "I forget."
I think this was the hardest time for her. She was anxious and asked a lot of questions and would repeat names over and over as if to remember them before the disease claimed them. She talked incessantly about them until she drove our family crazy, but I came to know the stories of her sister and brothers by heart.
THESE DAYS, she does not know I am her granddaughter, or she may forget my name. Sometimes she thinks I am her daughter and that her parents only recently passed away. But these things don't bother me, and they don't seem to bother her as much as they used to. Instead, I try to focus on the memories she does have.
She talks about her father and his vegetable cart in Kauai and her mother who worked hard raising her nine children. She remembers small things about her daughters, the one who is hard-working, the other who is lazy.
The memories are growing fewer and fewer. And the intensity and confidence she has in her memories are fading. But I have also noticed that her appreciation of the moment has also been heightened. She gets excited when witnessing the vibrant colors of a bouquet of fresh flowers, or when she gets to play with a baby or my dog. And everything seems to her to be happening for the first time, or if not, is something pleasantly familiar.
When she sees someone she remembers, she gets excited and cries from happiness. My grandmother has taught me to view life from a calmer, anxiety-free perspective, and to be more appreciative of things I take for granted. She revels in the good things that we forget to feel excited about.
She reminds me not to take life's minor grievances seriously, and because her memories fade quickly, she seems to enjoy every moment as if it were her last. When she says something funny and I laugh, she grabs my arm with tears in her eyes and says, "I'm so glad you are here and we are laughing. It's not good to just have long faces all the time. It's so good to laugh. We all need to laugh, yeah."
Brandi-Ann Tanaka grew up in Hawaii and is enrolled in Santa Clara University's Masters program in counseling psychology.
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