Ice Water.
Koozies.
Royal Blue.
Winterfresh Chewing Gum.
Blonde.
Singing.
Dancing.
The tape deck under the cabinets to the left of the back door.
Stop Screaming!
Tupperware full of cookies. (Drawer 3? on the left)
Slippers with the cutout toes.
Smile.
Polaroid.
Christmas.
Choir.
Chips & Dip.
Popsicles.
Fake eyebrows.
Love.

This short list is just the beginning of a numerous amount of things that trigger the memories I have shared with my grandmother over the past 21 years.

My grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's just a few short years ago and as of late has been "failing," as they say. She has put in a good fight and is ready to throw the towel in. None of us want her to go, and regardless of whether or not she is here with us or watching over us, our love for her is endless. My wanting her to continue to put up a fight is selfish. If she was her "normal" self, she would be appalled at the thought of the way she is now. She would never want to live like this. Come to think of it, I would never want to live the way she has been. Who would?

Seeing her, lying in her bed, tonight was not the Grandmother I have grown up knowing. She has stopped eating and drinking. She doesn't seem to know how to anymore. We stood there, standing over her, watching her the whole time, even though nothing changed the entire time we were there. I want her to know that I love her, and I always will . . . now and forever. That when she is ready to go, I'll be okay with it. I want to know she is herself again. Aware of everything, and everyone, around her. Able to sing with the magnificent voice God blessed her with, and to sing as loud and for as long as she wants. I want her to feel at rest: that she doesn't need to keep fighting, that she does not feel anymore pain. I want her to smile like she always smiled at me growing up. I want her to love me and watch over me; to be my Guardian Angel.

I love you Nana, always!