The Wind Beneath My Wings

I lost you. We all lost you.

I lost one of the greatest women I will ever have in my life.

My Nannie. My Grandmother.

You went in your way even though it was a way you never wanted.

You took that Alzheimer’s card you were given and had as much fun as you could.

You knew you couldn’t beat it like when you told cancer where to go and how to get there in the early 90s. You earned full marks for your effort. You made it entertaining most times. While your confusion made difficult at other times.

I don’t know how but somehow I am the only one you never argued with or lashed out at in your moments of confusion. Maybe you always remembered that I am never one for conflict.

Every time I saw you, the spark would light up inside of you. Slowly that light got dimmer and lit up for less and less time. But your love and passion for your family always rang true. You would always point to my Masters of Science graduation picture out every time I saw you. Telling me “That’s you.”

Family photo of authors.

You took care of everyone. From Grampy, to your two daughters, to your two grandsons and five granddaughters. You helped your sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews when ever you could. Your current six great-grandsons, and more great-grandchildren in the future, will surely hear many stories of you and your love and laughter.

The last time you were at the favourite place of yours, and one of mine, you were still taking care of me.

You spent one last day at the family cottage last summer.

As I went to pour myself a rye on the rocks, you grabbed the bottle asked me where I got it from. I told your from the cupboard (but not which one). You then put it back in the liquor cupboard. I had thought you had forgotten which one that cupboard was. Nope! Your kitchen was still yours. You firmly closed that cupboard door, told me I wasn’t old enough for that and sauntered back to your favourite rocking chair and gave me the “I dare you look”. Left my aunt laughing. And me wondering what do to now. All I knew to do was not to mess with the “I dare you look”.

You and Grampy spent years building and renovating homes together. You built four together and…