A Loss: A Short Story

In 2011, I was 9 years old. That's when my grandpa died and everything went downhill, my grandma got alzheimer's. I could feel my dad’s chilling voice as he told me. The only time I’ve seen my dad cry. I could feel each long minute go by as he was telling me. I watched anxiously as each tear roll down his face, for what seemed like an eternity. The silence was shattered by the sobbing of my brother, he was only five.
Experiencing this was the hardest, but most life changing experience of my life. Knowing that she’s alive but having the grief of a loss. I felt like she was gone but also knew she was alive. I've learned so much the past five years, including how much patience you need. You repeatedly need to tell her your name. “Kate,” I would say. “Okay”, She responded.

I know I want to work in Geriatrics because of this experience. I wondered for the first few years if this was really happening to me, but later realized it wasn't my suffering. She was suffering more than I was.
This changed my perspective on life. When I first saw her I thought it was gross. I didn't understand what was going on. It was like playing peek-a-boo with your parents when you were little. You knew they were there but you didn't at the same time. Now I want to become a geriatric nurse, I want to help people going through the same thing.
Being nine you didn't understand that her being alive felt like she was dead. You don't understand that when you go see her, she doesn't know who you are. Even though it was really hard to experience, it taught me a lot of important lessons. They are real people, just because they doesn’t remember you doesn't mean you shouldn't go visit. You need to constantly remind them of things that they don't remember. I remember walking into her house, “Hi Grandma” I would say “Good,” She replied. That's all she would say, I had to constantly remind her what my name