Look At Me

This is my grandmother, Zoya. She used to be a paediatrician. She studied for years, saved children’s lives, played guitar, she was able to memorize her entire phonebook. Now she lives at a nursing home and does not remember the last 10 years of her life. I suppose we all know what Alzheimer’s disease is, but when it really happens, you can easily mistake it for ignorance. Or laziness. Or lack of social skills, or whatever. While in fact the person you’ve known all your life begins to change. And the essence of all that change fits into two phrases: ‘I don’t remember’ and ‘I don’t want to’.
The things I remember about her help me recognize her in the person she’s become. I watch her smile at someone, or I see the way she touches a cat, the way she laughs, the way she opens a book, says my name, touches my hair, the questions she asks, the things that still matter to her – even now, when all of her memories crumble because of her illness.This is what I’ve been doing, I’ve been memorizing her my entire life, so that she can still exist. ‘She is a paediatrician’, ‘She has a magical voice and plays a guitar’, ‘She is so disciplined’, ‘She is so brave’. I keep bombarding people with this information, never letting myself use the past tense, because it matters. It still matters. As long as I can remember it myself.