My worst fear, I think, is getting Alzheimer's Disease. After seeing my grandmother suffer from the loss of her mind and all of her memories I came to the conclusion that I never wanted to go through that myself. It was heartbreaking for us watching her more than it was for her personally, in my opinion. I'm not sure she ever really understood what exactly was happening to her at the beginning. Then as the disease progressed she became less and less aware of her life. Her own memory was washing away like words drawn in sand and then pulled out to sea with the tide. All that we had left of her were
our memories. She was still alive but could not remember her past and her present life was a confusing fog of dots that wouldn't connect.
Photos became even more important to me personally because they were something physical that was left of the happy times we spent together through the years with our grandparents. Since my great-grandfather was an avid photographer, I could even look at the past one hundred years of family picnics, jokes, vacations, and trips to the beach. There was the evidence of so many memories that were made.
That's why now as a mother of three children I am busy keeping track of the memories we make as family together. Our living room bookshelves are filling up with photo albums and I have five years of video clips that I need to burn onto DVD's for my kids to watch. I might even need to get a new large plastic bin to store my journals because the one I have is almost filled to the top. I guess I'm storing up my memories just in case.
Do you have favorite memories? I do. We get so busy in life getting all of our work done; the dishes washed, the weeds pulled, the endless laundry folded that it may be hard to slow down a little and pay attention to life as it is happening. We may even be so busy grabbing our phones to take another selfie that we aren't fully experiencing the snapshots of life as they occur. One of my favorite "snapshots" of my grandfather happened on a warm September day when he stopped by with a large cardboard box. I was out mowing the lawn as usual when I noticed his car in the driveway. I pulled the small ride-on mower up to the side of the garden and turned it off. As I was getting off, I looked over and there was Grandpa with the arms of his long sleeved white shirt rolled up to the elbows holding a large juicy nectarine he had picked from our tree. He was leaning forward savoring every bite and letting the juice drip to the ground in front of him. In my mind's eye I can see him clear as day. When he was done with the nectarine he walked slowly to the car and popped open the trunk and pulled out that cardboard box and handed it to me. It was my eighteenth birthday present. He had written the word North on the top of the box, something he often did with gifts: handwritten instructions for how to open it just so. I was excited he had remembered my birthday and I hoped it was the gift I had hinted at a few weeks prior. Sure enough when I opened it later, there was the white bowl and pitcher set I had spied in their attic one day when we had visited their house. I'm not sure why I was paying close attention to my grandfather that day. But boy am I glad now, that I took a minute to stop what I was doing to take that mental snapshot of my grandfather. It didn't just happen though. I had to stop for a minute to take notice and appreciate that picture of the grandpa I loved.
One thing is for sure there is no guarantee of the future. We have no idea what will happen to our health or how long we will live. Now is the time to make memories with our loved ones and to also try to leave evidence of those memories to be cherished.
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