That Kind of Love

"Who are you again?"

JK smiled, embarrassed that he'd forgotten. "I know you, sweetie, I do. I just don't have all my marbles together."

As he waved his hands around his head to demonstrate where his missing marbles were I walked over to the desk and pulled a picture of the entire family that'd we'd left in his room.

"You see her?" I asked as I snuggled next to him on the bed,

"mmhmm,"

"That's Dawn, your oldest daughter. She's married to Wayne, see him? Yep, and those are their three children, your grandchildren, Steven, Emily and Natalie."

"I've got lots of kids, don't I?"

"ha- yea. You do."

"How many do I have?"

"Four."

We looked back at the picture. "And you see that girl? That's your youngest daughter, your baby. She's my mother. And that man standing next to her is her husband and that girl between them is me. And the old man sitting in the chair right there - yea him, that's you. JK"

With that he took the picture from my hands and studied it closely. In the family portrait the whole family is standing around my sitting grandparents.

With excitement he started to tap his finger on the image of the old woman sitting next to him. "You see her," he began, pointing with enthusiasm, "I know her. I recognize her." He looked up at me with a big smile, "That's my Wanda. That's my Wanda."

Then his smile left. He returned to me the photo with a frown, "But she's not here anymore, is she? No, she's gone."

My eyes begin to swell, "Yea,"

Because here I am, visiting my grandfather who can't tell you what he ate for breakfast or who visited him the day before. He doesn't remember the names of his great-grand children, or grandchildren, or children. He doesn't know that he has nice clothes hanging in his closet or that he once owned a hardware store. He can't remember any of us - except for her.

He remembers her.

Love like that gives me hope.