Forgotten Angel

His eyes met mine, milky and blank. His stare was soft as if he was looking right through me. I saw his mouth move struggling to push the words from his throat to his lips. He paused and I wish I knew what was racing through his mind at that point, were thoughts trying to come together or was there nothing at all? He then smiled and I thought everything was going to be alright. He turned and asked my Nana “Who is this, have I met her before?”.  

My Papa passed away two months after this moment. He fell to the dehumanizing disease that is Alzheimer’s. I use this word because it doesn’t only take away your life but your mind and soul. You lose the ability to think and remember. Forgetting everyone and everything you ever loved while your own sense of self slowly slips away. Before his diagnosis my Papa was a superhero in the eyes of everyone he met, including myself. He was a man that parents hope their children grow up to be. An intelligent, determined and kind-hearted man paved a pathway for his children and grandchildren to have a better life than he could ever imagine. He worked long and gruelling hours at a job that only had one purpose, make a living for his family. When he wanted a special place for his entire family to enjoy each others company, he built a cottage with his own two hands. For a man that was so giving and devoted, why would he of all people have his own self taken away?

At the age of four he and I were colouring together at a tiny table that he had built for me. He always told me to stay in the lines because then it would be neater and that was the proper way. He continued to mentor me about the rights and wrongs of life and taught a very stubborn and independent child everything he possibly could. I always remember being slightly annoyed with his constant push for success from me but I realize now his intentions. He constantly would tell my Nana that I was the smartest and most determined little girl he knew and he was unbelievably proud of having me as a granddaughter. These words still haunt me as I feel in his last few months of his life I was more of a shame to him. 

Moments after he asked that question my body snapped into a trance where I pretended everything was alright and I pushed away the tears. When I finally got home  and realized what had happened I sulked uncontrollably until I was shaking. Every time I thought about those blank eyes I felt my heart twist more and sink lower into my stomach making the gut wrenching pain far worse. This was the first time I truly recognized what Alzheimer’s does. It doesn't just take away memories and thoughts but hearts too. It leaves a lasting imprint on someone’s soul that will never heal because you never forget being forgotten. That stare and look of unknown will haunt you. The only way to escape is to push it so deep into your mind you eventually forget. How sick is it that? The only way to get rid of my pain is to forget the person who forgot me, as if revenge is my only solution.

I never hated my Papa but I hated that the disease made me as relevant to him as a stranger on the street. I hate the fact that our memories are now only in my brain as if I had imagined them. I hated that this was the beginning of the end and soon he would only exist in our minds and hearts. 

In the coming months after his passing I began to feel less hate and instead my feelings were filled with regret and sorrow. I remembered back to countless times when my mom begged me to come visit him and I said no to protect my own feelings. When we were at the cottage I avoided conversations with him as I felt so awkward and useless to him. I wondered if I had spent more time with him would he still have forgotten me? Would he die knowing his granddaughter and how proud he was of her? My face? This was foolish as I know Alzheimer’s doesn’t allow for any memories leftover. However, him eventually forgetting me was not a good excuse to not see him. I had time with him that I gave up because I was selfish. Time I will never get back no matter how hard I try. It’s sad that I realized now what a dying man really wanted in life was something I could have given him. 

All he wanted was time.