The Mind that Slipped Away

The Mind that Slipped Away

Victoria Perez

9/27/22

Growing up, my parents experienced and saw things that children should never see. My mother lost both of her brothers, and my father grew up in multiple neighborhoods that some kids should never experience living in. When they had my sister and me, they vowed to protect us from the big bad world and the sadness of losing people we loved.

You know that gutwrenching feeling you get when someone close to you passes away? Your heart drops to your stomach, the room suddenly starts to close in on you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. My ‘Abuelito’ and I were so close. He would go to every dance recital, pick me up to go to Greenglade Elementary School in his little green Honda every morning, pick lottery numbers for the week in the car, and wait for me to come home every day. I would walk into my living room to see him on our old jean couch, binging “Caso Cerrado” on the TV. He loved that show and he loved that couch. He had his corner on the far left side of the couch, and he always sat there in the same spot. I don’t think there was ever a day I came home from school, and he wasn't sitting there. As a little kid, I think I expected him to live in that corner spot forever.

But like always, things never go as planned.

As I entered 6th grade, I didn't see Abuelito as much. My parents started to shield me from his forgetful mind, as he was diagnosed with dementia. I got home to an empty house after school. The TV show I had grown accustomed to hearing every day no longer played. Instead, a black and muted screen took its place, almost creating a void. Now, my grandfather and I were still close, but things changed. I wanted to see him every day, but my parents wouldn’t allow it. I remember how much I resented them for this. I would go to his house when my parents didn’t want to leave me at home alone. That was still rare. We would watch “Caso Cerrado” on his couch. This couch was different. This was a black, leatherette couch. He would still sit in the same corner on this couch as he would in my house. It wasn't as comfortable as my jean couch. I was still happy to spend time with him though. I didn’t notice it yet, his forgetful mind. He was still the Abuelito I knew and loved. We would eat on the couch, something I am never allowed to do at home and he would sneak me snacks that I would never be able to eat at my house. He would sneak me two bags of Little Bites instead of one because he knew I had a huge sweet tooth. He tried so hard to make sure that our times together were special.

Now, as 7th grade rolls around, I start to see him even less, as my parents try to protect me from an unavoidable situation. I still talk to him on the phone sometimes and go to dinner maybe once or twice. He is starting to forget simple things. Sometimes he forgets my name, my mom’s name, and even my dad (his son). Now as a 7th grader, I don’t think too much of this. He’s getting a bit old, memory gets worse with age, right? In October 2017, Abuelito has now been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. My heart shattered. The man that I knew to bring a smile to my face would now become a shell of who he once was. Now, my parents would almost completely block my sister and me from seeing him, shielding us from the extensive emotional pain of seeing Abuelito struggling.

I remember the last time we had dinner together. We were at the Bonefish restaurant on 8th Street, and he was not who I knew him to be. He struggled to remember anything at this point. It took all of me not to break down and cry. I only saw him once after that. The last time I would see my grandfather would be in the hospital. His mind was gone at this point. Throughout his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I was completely cut off from seeing him. My father didn’t want me to see how much Abuelito was deteriorating. I don’t think he even wanted to see it himself. How could a father explain to his thirteen year-old daughter that her favorite person in the world would never be who he used to be. We all hoped he would magically bounce back from this, even though we knew that Alzheimer's doesn’t have a cure. When we got to his hospital room, he couldn’t remember anyone. Here I understood why my parents shielded me from this. No 7th grader should have to see their grandfather, skin and bones, in a hospital bed. I was still resentful to my parents, from trying to basically hide him and how bad his condition really was from me. His memory came and went. As we were leaving the room, I faintly heard him call my name. He remembered my name. This would be the last memory I have with him, the last memory of Abuelito calling my name. The man who brought so much light to my life would only be a memory to me after this day.

I still remember the day I found out he had died. Even though I hadn’t talked to him in almost a year, he still had a huge place in my heart. My mom and I had just returned from my dance competition in Las Vegas. It was already late at night when we got back to our house. When my dad told me Abuelito had passed away, I didn't want to believe it. He had died while I was in Las Vegas, but my mom didn't want to make upset me before the competition. My heart dropped to my stomach. The room started to close in on me. I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be possible. How could this be possible? He was supposed to sit in that corner of our jean couch forever. He was supposed to wait for me after school. Who would I watch Caso Cerrado with now? I held this grudge against my parents for waiting so long to tell me that he passed away.

I always thought my Abuelito would live as long as I, but nothing lasts forever. We got rid of the blue jean couch soon after he died. None of the sofas ever felt as comfortable as that couch. At first, it felt like I would never get over the loss of Abuelito. As time passed, I realized he was gone even before he died. I didn’t resent my parents for hiding it from me anymore. Alzheimer’s took his memories from him, and it took my chance to say goodbye to him. After a while, it stopped getting hard to breathe when thinking about him, my heart didn't drop every time I thought about him; instead, it grew at the thought of all the memories we made together. Parents have this instinct that they must protect their children from all things bad in the world. Shield them from the evil in this world.

Having gone through this experience with my Abuelito made me question if the decision my parents made to shield me away from him really was the best option. Should parents shield their children away from sickness? For one, I understood that they wanted me to have these good memories of my Abuelito. They wanted to protect this image that I had curated of him for years. But sickness is inevitable. I would have liked to be with my grandfather through the bad and the good. Shouldn’t a family be the backbone and support of those who are ill? At the end of the day, I wanted to seek this sort of closure with his death and his illness. I think that parents shouldn’t be so negligent in trying to protect all the hardships one might have to face when it comes to illness. While I do not resent my parents for the decision they made, part of me will always think about the what if.