Rifling through mortality

I have been avoiding this but something tells me it might be therapeutic to talk about it. Feel free to skip, it's another Nanny post.

It's been medically confirmed that Nanny has either Alzheimers or vascular dementia. I can't believe we're nearing that very point in life that I've been dreading and denying ever since I can remember. She has been moved to a nursing facility and she wants to come home. Not a nice feeling for my mother to have to explain to her over and over again that she has to stay. Furthermore, she has smoked since she was 18 and she can't smoke where she's living so she's wearing a patch and trying to bargain deals with my dad so she can have her smokes back. I'm so sad.

My mom and her brothers are taking care of her old apartment, divvying up furniture and such because she is in a furnished room at the home now. Most of her stuff will go to charity but my mom asked me if I wanted anything and I decided to go to the apartment with my boyfriend. I felt bad about the whole thing, trying to be respectful, not vulture-ing the place. As soon as I walked in, I spotted at least a hundred things that Nanny's had for years. She kept everything. Oh great, here come the tears. I hadn't been in the place for 10 seconds and I was already sobbing over some ceramic figurines and picturing myself passing by them almost daily in my childhood. Running by the glass bookcase filled with treasures on my way from her bedroom to run outside and jump in the pool. Walking by countless knick-knacks while heading to the spare room at a much too late hour during our many sleepovers. I can still hear the creaking in the floor exactly as it was. The heavy dusty smell of books. The ugly doll collection (she felt sorry for them and rescued them from garage sales). The junk jewelry...god the jewelry. It was beautiful to see what she has held onto over the years. Pictures, letters, crafts we had made her when we were kids, everything. And she didn't ever achieve hoarder status, because everything was minimal and put away neatly.

How do you determine what is trash and what is treasure? I searched for the things she specifically told me she wanted me to have and located them after digging them out from beneath other things that would lead me to distraction..."Oh there's that newspaper article she cut out to show me back when I was nine...she kept that??" I found a beautiful jewellry box and I actually remember when she bought it. Inside were a few trinkets and mismatched earrings. I filled it with what jewelry I figured I'd actually wear as well as one very important necklace...

When I was really small, she bought herself a set of beads that looked just like candy. I remember actually trying to take a bite out of it. Sure enough, there it was with a bunch of stuff in a box. If I had walked out of the apartment without those beads I'd never forgive myself.

There was also a photo, almost the length of a metre stick...of her entire office in the Munitions and Supply Dept. of the Gov't....1941. Women wearing smart hats with feathers, men in suits, Nanny looking beautiful and stylish with curly hair. I took that with me as well. I plan on hanging it in my finished basement. I have a great appreciation for history and that photo was the coolest thing I could find.

Oh this is so odd, going through someone's belongings and they're not even dead. She seems pretty sharp here and there but then she'll say something really peculiar. I have to stop every now and then and wonder what the hell is in store for me...mental illness on my father's side and Alzheimer's on my mother's side. My poor children. I just hope that science will uncover the mysteries of these illnesses and find a way to 'cure' the maladies that take our living history away from us.