life in her eyes

The last time I saw my Grandma Kay was well over a year ago.  I visited with a woman this morning who reminded me of her.  She looks a bit like her, and has photos of my children in her room.  She has my grandmother's name on her door.  She even has the same birthday.   But her hair isn't permed.  Her clothes aren't carefully chosen.  Her big smile and contagious laugh aren't there.  She isn't feisty and opinionated.  She isn't chastising my grandfather with a loud, "Oh, ERNIE!".  She barely speaks.  She is skinny.  She is tired.  She is lonely.

She is lost.

Alzheimer's disease.  I remember hearing about it when I was a child, but never really understood what it was.  Well now I know it's one of the cruelest most debilitating diseases out there.  My grandmother doesn't know that she has four children.  That she has nine grandchildren.  That she has two great-grandchildren.  She doesn't know that her husband of over 60 years has a body that is deteriorating in a hospital while she sits in a chair with a mind that's doing the same.

"I'm looking for Kathleen Gilligan," I said to the nurse as I held my 10-month-old baby tightly to my chest.  "Right in there," she said, pointing to a room at the end of the hall. I walked in and saw several large windows with sunlight streaming in. I couldn't help but shake my head at the sight of such warmth amidst the lifeless crowd of wheelchair-bound residents along one side of a table. All of them were asleep, one with a half empty glass of chocolate milk in front of her that she clearly wouldn't be able to finish on her own.  At the end of the table sat my grandmother, slumped in her wheelchair with one hand holding her head up.

"Kathleen, I brought a baby to see you," I said as I gently held her hand and stroked her arm.

She slowly opened her eyes, and stared down at the floor.  I moved Violet into her line of sight, and she suddenly lifted her chin and her eyes set on my baby girl.  Her eyes even began to sparkle, and life flowed into her gaze. She made kissing sounds toward Violet and whispered what I could only make out to be "mom".  But just as quickly as it had arrived, the life drained out of her eyes and she looked away.

"Kathleen, this is Violet.  She's almost a year old!  Everyone says she looks just like you!"

A man wheeled into the room and spoke loudly about how adorable Violet was, and asked who we were. "This is Kathleen's great-granddaughter," I said, hoping for some sort of reaction from my grandmother.

Nothing.

"Isn't she beautiful!" the man said.

I placed my baby in a chair next to the wheelchair, and Violet immediately turned to reach for my grandmother's withered body.  Her tiny hand grabbed Grandma Kay's sweater, and suddenly their eyes met.  My grandmother's dry lips began to quiver, and then turned up into what I know was the biggest smile she could muster.  I let Violet get closer, and she touched her great-grandmother's hand, and with my help, her cheek.

"We love you, Grandma," I said as I picked Violet up and headed for the door.  Her head nodded down again, but she quickly looked back up when we turned to wave. Violet reached her hand forward in her little version of a goodbye, and Grandma Kay's eyes didn't blink as she watched us leave.

It's been well over a year since I saw my grandmother, and I know that I will never see her again.  But I will continue to visit this woman who reminds me of her, and with Violet's help, try to bring a little life into her eyes each time.