Mamere.

Very early on Wednesday morning we lost my dad's mom to Alzheimer's.

It is a horrible disease, and it's been difficult to watch it rob her of her memories. It was difficult to watch her lose her speach and eventually to fail to recognize each of us...

I sometimes feel like I lost my grandmother twice, because apart from the same shell, I didn't feel like I was saying goodbye to her on Monday night. Her body was leaving but her mind was already gone..

I have since tried to remember a happier and healthier woman. One who would sit with all of her grandchildren and patiently remind us how to play "Steal the Package." I remember the hutch in her living room full of every kind of porcelain figurine you could imagine. As a little girl I could sit and stare at them for hours. I remember evenings at 23 Centenial Boulevard in the spring, watching hundreds and hundreds of little blackbirds return from their winter migration and congregate on the wires. I remember her little Polish-English dictionaries.

When I think of Mamere I think also of the traits that have been passed down through her family, the things that I encounter daily. The "Justa" nose that she shares with her children and the varied appearances it makes in her grandchildren. I remember the shape of her hands, and her love for The Sound of Music, both of which I share with her. I remember the funny way she would say "Yes." and inhale at the same time so it sounded almost like a whisper.. something I've noticed myself and others do. The way that my dad says that food he's eating is "Nice.", something she used to do as well.

These are the things that keep our loved ones close to us after they leave us- and they make the years of waiting in between a little more bearable. I am comforted today by the fact that she knew Jesus and that we will be united again one day. I am comforted by the fact that death is not the end- as once stated in a movie that I saw..

"Lightbulbs die my sweet.. I will depart."