An instruction manual for my dementia

When my memory wanes thin, these are the ways you can make my life more rich.

photo of author with her grandmother, 1975

1. Play with my hair, the way the girls did during story time in Mrs. Plummer’s kindergarten class.
2. Play 80’s music. The Cure, REM and the Beastie Boys. Even play the ones I never admitted to listening to, like Boy George and WHAM!.
3. Read me the childrens’ books we read to our boys. Show me the pictures. Make the voices. (They are all in boxes in the basement).
4. Sit beside me. Right beside me on my bed. Or thigh-to-thigh on a couch. Don’t worry about squishing me. Hold my hand. I’ll be okay with silence if you don’t feel like making small talk.
5. Keep me warm. Heating pads, socks and warm blankets. “Cold hands, warm heart” is poppycock.
6. Bring me Doritos, Cheezies (Hawkins, please) and popcorn twists. Even if I can’t get the button on my pants up. Remember the trick with the elastic looped through the button hole when I was pregnant?
7. Don’t fuss with lipstick or combing my hair. But please, for the love of god, pluck my wiry chin hairs.
8. Let me eat with my hands. Let me paint my bed tray with chocolate pudding and add texture with broccoli and my fork. We encouraged our kids to do this. Now it’s my turn.
9. Put me in high top bottoms. I don’t want grandkids to have to see my ass crack when I’m shuffling around.
10. Don’t ask me the date or what day of the week it is to figure out my state of mind. Don’t even ask me the month or the year. I’ve never known what day it is and I don’t give a rat’s ass.

And if I don’t remember any of this, it still counts. Do you remember the sting when our teenagers announced they didn’t remember the hours spent building Zhu Zhu pet mazes that spilled into every room of our home, or the weeks when the kitchen table was rendered useless because of the crafts-in-progress? You consoled me with promises that those moments were part of their fabric, ground in good and hard and forever. The same will be true in my final six years. I will carry time spent together in my heart, even if I am unable to hold it in my head.

And how can I make your life more rich if you get there first?

Check out my blog (and my new book!) at www.obittersweet.com to discover the life lessons you can learn from reading the obituaries and for tips on harnessing words to honour a life well-lived.