My grandfather will be 88 old next month. He's been in and out of the hospital for the last five years. Quite honestly, there have been a number of times when we thought we were going to lose him. Grampa and I have a special relationship. He raised me after my mom died. And as a matter of fact, it was frequently just Grampa and me at the dinner table when I was growing up.
Now, he's back in the hospital. Yesterday when I went to see him, he couldn't remember my name. He remembered Little Miss' name. He remembered my husband's name (Grampa adores my husband). But he couldn't remember mine. He knew me but he couldn't come up with my name. It made me feel for the families of Alsheimer's patients. Grampa's on a new med to help his memory. The day he can't remember me will be one of the saddest days of my life.