Happy with a secret

I am amazed, humbled, and heartbroken in being a spectator of my grandparents' love for one another. My grandmother has dementia, and my grandfather has a case of perpetual patience. Today I have the privilege of looking after them, a blessing to me since I hardly get to see them because of school. I bring them their food, make sure they eat, take their medication, and ensure my grandmother doesn't have too much water because it causes makes her swell into a balloon.

After 73 years of marriage, I am so blessed to witness a love like theirs. As they eat, she nags him about rolling up his sleeves because they're getting into his food. After she asks him for water every other minute, he tirelessly explains to her that she can't have any because she has water in her lungs. He escorts her to the washroom every time she has to go and washes her once she's done. When she sifts through the garbage for no reason, he yells at her and forces her to wash her hands even though she doesn't understand why. When he sees she is falling asleep while sitting, he tells her over and over to just lie down - she doesn't. She starts sentences but doesn't finish them, and he doesn't mind. Unconventional acts of romance, yes, but a love like no other, nonetheless. Just now, he told her she's more beautiful than a rose.

I remember the memories of her having the strength to chase me around when I'd get into trouble at the age of 4, and relentlessly cleaning everything around her. Now I sit in front of her and she picks off spilt crumbs on her dress, listening to her blurb out random demands like, "Give me water!", "Don't step on that!", "You do your lessons!" - some of which make absolutely no sense what so ever.  I watch her weakly bring her feet up on the bed to lie down. I am overwhelmed with having to see this stark contrast of before and after.

I do my best to take care of her, and I'm positive she has no idea who I am anymore. She asks the same questions over and over, refuses to take her medication, rudely demands of impossible things to be done, but I cannot help but have immense patience with her. I understand that when a person has dementia, they are not always themselves. The disease takes over and can sometimes drown out who the person truly is. I am so inspired by the patience that my grandfather and aunts have had in taking care of her. They do so much in love and are caregivers of great resiliency.