Anne...I wrote the following as a 'note' on my FB page. I wanted to share it here if I may.

My Aunt Mary has Alzheimer’s…I visited her this past week and had the most incredible moments with her…some that brought me to tears. Her husband, my dear Uncle Norman, 86 years young, will not allow her to be anywhere but home. Vivian and Sandra, sisters who are nurses, share their time taking care of Mary. The rest of the night my Uncle lovingly cares for his wife of 63 years.

Aunt Mary is in stage 4 Alzheimer’s, cannot feed herself and is unable to walk without assistant and that takes major coaxing when she does. Most of the time she sits either in her wheel chair or her big easy chair focused on TV or whatever catches her unorganized thoughts.

When I arrived Sunday morning she and Uncle Norman were in the living room with Stella, another Nurse. Uncle Norman hugged me and kissed my cheek and patted my chin. I looked down at Aunt Mary, who did not recognize me, and she had a scowl on her face. She looked at me and said, ‘well, well, well, well, well…” and shook her hand at me as if to sweep me out of her way. She obviously did not like Uncle Norman showing me any affection. It amused me and Uncle Norman and after a few hours of being around her, Mary decided I was not going to steal her husband. Poor darling couldn’t remember that I am her niece.

Stella explained to me Mary’s condition and how going slowly would help her react to situations. Loud noises and a lot of chatter and laughter made her uneasy and fuss incoherently.

I had intended only staying one night but stayed four because I was having such a wonderful time with my aunt and uncle. Uncle Norman still works as a lock smith with the company he founded…run by one…himself. He scoots his way to his van and off he goes. The man is amazing and my hero.

By the second day of my visit Mary was allowing me to get close to her and she liked the baby doll I brought with me and gave her. She sometimes would fuss over her sweetly or she would look at it in complete bewilderment…sometimes she would poke at it and other times would pet it and cuddle it.

Taking Stella’s advice I always talked softly with Mary and would get down on her eye-level. The most tender moments with her happened with I would feed her. She would lean in to me and look deeply into my eyes…she would just look at me and I could feel her searching…perhaps remembering me…or perhaps just curious as to who I am.

Her skin is old, wrinkled, darkened from bruises that can’t be helped, blood thinners or just from being old. What I remember most is how soft her skin is, especially her hands. When she would touch my hand or arm she was ever-so-tender…as if touching me would break me. Sometimes we’d hold hands and oh those moments are so precious in my heart. And her smile…she has a smile that goes from ear to ear and lights up her entire face. Just as suddenly as a smile would appear it could disappear and she would be lost in a world that produced a blankness in her eyes. Sometimes she would put her face in her hand and my heart would break for her. Where was she? What was she able to think? Was she hurting? Was she tired?

The nurses all tell me that Mary is not all lost. She proved that by calling Norman when she wanted him. She called her daughter’s names and when I was feeding her grapes she would let me know in her own way that she liked them and that they were ‘good’. She always smiled biggest when she was eating something she really liked.

Twice during my visit she melted my heart. Once when I was close to her talking face-to-face…she puckered her lips and made kissing noises to let me know she wanted a kiss. My heart sang when she did that and I kissed her and watched her face light up the room. It was such a precious moment. The second time was when I told her I loved her (I said this many times to her) but, on this particular occasion she leaned her head towards mine and our foreheads rested on one another’s for a few moments and we held hands…She squeezed my hand and I could feel her there completely. It only lasted a few seconds and then she was gone again.

When I was a child I was afraid of her. She was not an Aunt that I felt close to or that cuddled me. As my cousin, Phyllis, tells me, she can be quite bold…she wore the pants in the family.

The day I was to leave I watched as Uncle Norman prepared his usual breakfast for her. Scrambled eggs, bacon baked in the over and instead of cheese toast I baked biscuits for the honey I’d brought them from our bee hive. Uncle Norman had to leave for work but went in and made sure Mary had her breakfast first. He lovingly talked to her as he patiently fed her. She would look up at him and smile, chew her food, swallow and make gestures that she wanted more. She always ate well for Norman.

When Vivian arrived Uncle Norman left for work. I told him goodbye and promised to come back soon. I watched him scoot his way to his van and drive away. Inside, Vivian changed Aunt Mary, got her out of the bed and put her in her wheelchair. Vivian left to do something in the bathroom and I squatted down in front of Aunt Mary to keep her company while waiting to be moved to the living room.

Aunt Mary ever-so-gently touched my hands and I looked into her eyes and told her what a wonderful time I had being with her. This is when my breath was taken away by her.

She leaned towards me closely, looked dead into my eyes and said, “I want you to know…I have always loved you. When I was a little girl.” She then reached up and touched my cheek. Then we rested our foreheads against each others as we had come to do so often when she wanted to be close to me. I fought back the tears but they came and fell down my cheeks. I kissed her and told her that I always loved her, too. I think what she was trying to say is that she loved me ever since I was a little girl.

I am convinced that Aunt Mary knows who I am at moments and in that moment she knew me and wanted me to know how much she loves me. I told Vivian what Mary said to me and Vivian wasn’t surprised. Vivian knows that Mary comes and goes in and out of different realms of reality but that Mary is not completely lost to her brain disease. It seems like it so much of the time but for the times when she makes those moments of impossible connections, then it was time well spent with this remarkable woman who is my Aunt Mary.

My Uncle Norman gave me such a sweet compliment the night before I left. He told me that I remind him of his Mother in how I talk to Mary…soft, gentle, patient. You see, his Mother was Mamaw Vowell, the woman who taught me how to love…she was that way with me. I don’t come anywhere close to being like Uncle Norman’s Mother but him saying so means the world to me because I know he meant it.

It was the best four days I’ve had in quite some time and I look forward to seeing both of them again really, really soon.