My great grandmother, Gram, was the epitome of what a great grandmother should be. She was a sweet southern bell who treated everyone like family, and her sass and quick wit always had her great grandkids cracking up. Despite being the tenth of Gram's seventeen great grandchildren, she and I always had a super unique bond, and I believe that is because I was named after her. Gram was the strongest woman I knew, especially being a breast cancer survivor. Most of my memories with Gram involved food. She was the best chef ever, and I would give anything to have her homemade raviolis even one more time. Her recipes were handwritten and very vague; her ravioli recipe only reads as "eggs, flour, and ricotta". While she did pass these recipes down to us, we have yet to recreate meals anywhere near to as delicious as hers were.
Like any great grandmother, Gram spoiled her great grandkids rotten. She loved giving us Klondike ice cream bars, often offering us a second one as long as we promised not to tell our parents. Whenever my cousins and I wanted to play with the race cars or building blocks, Gram would get down on the floor to join us. She was always cheering on the sidelines during my soccer games as a young child. All of this goes to show that Gram was never too busy for what really mattered, and to her that was her family. The eternal caregiver for my great grandfather, Gram laid out Pops' outfits daily so that he would always look his best. She cooked his meals and expected nothing in return; that is just the kind of person that my sweet great grandmother was towards everyone.
In Gram's early 90s, she was diagnosed with dementia. At the time, I barely knew what this cruel disease would mean for my Gram's future. What I knew was that my Gram loved cooking, coloring, watching Deal Or No Deal, and above all else, her family. However, as visits continued over the years, I began to notice little things that pointed right back to her diagnosis. As she rewrote recipes for my cousins and I, she began missing letters or writing them backwards. Gram could no longer color in the lines in her coloring books, and she would rewatch the same episode of Deal Or No Deal over and over again because she would forget that she had already seen it. It got to the point that my grandma, my aunt, and my mom had to take turns watching Gram, and eventually her disease progressed to where it was time that she moved into a nursing home.
The nurses there were great; everyone loved Gram, and my family is still in contact with the connections we made at Calvert Manor. Visits with Gram that were once so exciting for me began to fill my heart with sadness as I watched her independence that she was so proud of dwindle away. She was trapped in a body that her mind no longer had any control over. Her lack of independence led to visible frustration from Gram, something that I had never seen before. Eventually, she forgot my name and, what hurt even more, that I was named after her. Gram passed away at 98 years old. While her passing has eased my mind in knowing that Gram is no longer scared or suffering, this is a wound that time has not been able to heal. I miss her every day, and the smallest things remind me of her. Being in Sigma Kappa and being surrounded by so many sweet sisters who also feel so passionate about memory-loss diseases, such as dementia and Alzheimer's, brings me peace, and I know that Gram would be proud of me for choosing SK and continuing to honor her legacy. To know Gram was to love her, and I am eternally grateful that I got to spend the first fifteen years of my life doing just that.
My Progress
Thank you for helping advance Alzheimer's support, care and research.
1015
I have raised
3000
My Goal
My Achievements
Fundraiser
Top Team
T-shirt
Champion
Grand Champion
Storyteller