My grandmother has dementia so I usually don’t take anything she says at face value but recently she has been scaring me.
Ok so just to clarify, I love her very much and wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. In my family, I’m the one living closest to her so I try to visit her as often as possible. My parents live in a different city so they don’t visit much. I visit her almost every weekend. It’s kind of a tradition between us at this point. I can tell that she has been very lonely since my grandfather died, especially considering she was once such an outgoing and social person. Giving her some company is the least I can do.
Ever since I was a kid she has always liked to cook for me, and I’ve always liked to eat her cooking. I remember trying out her old family recipes and even some dishes that she invented herself. We have been meeting up for lunch or dinner almost every weekend for the past year or so. Her memory is not the best anymore but that is something she never forgets. Even her cooking is still as good as I remember it being. She struggles with holding a conversation though. It really makes me sad to see her like this. She likes to talk. Always has. But now she often gets confused or forgets what we were talking about. Sometimes she starts talking about something that never happened. She seems embarrassed every time that happens. But I try to go along with her, treat her like a normal person. I had decided to continue this for however long she has left. I don’t want her to be alone at the end.
But lately she has been saying some really weird things. Even more weird than what you would expect a demented person’s ramblings to be. I tried to ignore them at first, thinking it was just part of her illness. But I can’t do that anymore. There has to be something else going on here. Something I just can’t explain.
The earliest incident I can think of must have been a little over a month ago. There might have been more before that which flew under my radar, but this is as far back as my hindsight goes.
“Remember that cake you brought me last week?” She said.
I told her I didn’t. I had visited her the previous week but hadn’t brought any cake.
“The one from the new bakery near your place, silly,” she said. “Your memory is supposed to be better than mine. Anyway, I tried to recreate that recipe. Would you give it a try?”
I didn’t argue any more. I just told her that I must have forgotten. Then I tried the cake she had baked. It was great. There was something unique about it that I couldn’t quite place. It was unlike any cake I had tasted before.
Now the weird thing is that there was a new bakery that had opened close to my place. I visited it a few days later, purely out of curiosity. And to my surprise, they had a cake on display that looked just like the one my grandma had made. I tried it. It tasted exactly the same. The taste was unique enough that I could tell. I later asked the guy there where they got the recipe from. He said it was his own original recipe. At that point, I just waved it off as coincidence. I mean there’s only so much you can do with cake. It shouldn’t be too surprising if two people came up with the same recipe. This just feels unusual in hindsight, with the context of the things that happened later.
The second incident I remember was just the week after that. I had asked her to watch a movie with me on Netflix. It was a newly released movie which I thought she might like. She said she had already watched it. She said that I was the one who had asked her to watch it, that I wouldn’t shut up about it. I told her that she must have confused it with some other movie, when in reality I hadn’t recommended any movie to her. But she was adamant that it was this one. She even went as far as to describe the events of the movie, right down to the ending. I confirmed that everything she had said was accurate. I asked her how she knew. She wouldn’t budge on the story that I had asked her to watch it.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. After all, the movie had only just been released a few days ago. She wouldn’t have watched it herself, without anyone telling her. She doesn’t even know how to use Netflix. But she had described it perfectly. I don’t know how someone can do that without watching it. I tried to convince myself that it was all a coincidence. That it just happened out of sheer luck. But to be honest I wasn’t convinced.
The next incident I want to highlight was just last week. We were having dinner, chatting about some topic that was mundane enough that I don’t remember. Then she suddenly gets that look on her face. The look that she gets when she forgets what we were talking about.
“I think you should do it.” She said.
“Do what?” I asked her.
“Quit your job.” She said. “You told me you wanted to. That you weren’t happy with it. I think you shouldn’t continue if you don’t want to. You can do better, I just know it.”
I didn’t know how to reply to that. I didn’t know how she knew. She was right about the fact that I had wanted to quit my job for a while. But I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not a single person. I was sure of it. I was supposed to be the only one who was aware of that. Then how did she know? Who could have told her? I didn’t know what to believe.
Just yesterday, I visited her again. These visits were getting uncomfortable. I didn’t bring up my concerns with her. I’m not sure if talking to her about it is a good idea. I wasn’t talking much this time. I guess it wouldn’t be too wrong to say I was afraid of talking to her. She must have noticed it.
“What’s wrong?” She asked. “Are you worried about your mother?”
I just looked at her. Didn’t say anything. I was afraid of what she was going to say next.
“It’s sad really. She seemed so healthy. Who would have guessed that she was sick. I pray that she gets better. I have known too many people taken from us by cancer.”
I immediately excused myself, saying that I had to return home for some urgent work that I had forgotten. On the way back I called my mom.
“How are you?” I asked her.
“I’m fine.” She said. “Why? Is something the matter?”
“Nothing.” I said. “Just thought you should get a health checkup. You never know.”
“I guess it has been a while since I got one.” She said.
She got a health checkup done this morning. Stage 3 bowel cancer. She may or may not live.
There is something wrong with my grandmother. I needed answers so I visited her again today. I decided to confront her about it. Playing nice wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had to be firm.
I tried knocking on her front door. There was no answer. I tried the door. It was unlocked. Entering her living room, I found her seated on her couch, crying. She turned to me.
“Oh dear, thank God you’re back.” She said. “I was so worried. I didn’t know what to do when you said those horrible things.”
“What did I say?” I asked her.
She spoke through tears. “That you were going to take your own life.”