SpaceMika

Yesterday’s Walk for Memories to raise funds for Alzheimer’s research and caregiver support was a blast. I’m amazed that the several thousand people who showed up didn’t merit any news coverage (as far as I can tell); one of my Rambling Relatives was shocked the video crews didn’t collect snippets of people explaining who they were walking for.

Alzheimer’s steals memories, a nasty disease hard on both the individual and the people who care for them. While he could still communicate, my grandpa Frank stayed charming, telling us how delighted he was to meet us, and that he was sure he’d be just as delighted to meet us again later. When I tried to waltz with him, he was actively uncomfortable, not quite sure who I was or who granny was, but quite certain he shouldn’t be dancing with another woman. My granny Helen was equally polite, her curiosity possibly enhanced by not remembering she’d already asked only a few minutes earlier. I walked for them and their memories, but also, selfishly for myself and my family I walked to raise funds to support caregivers, for group meetings where they can lean on each other, and hear that it’s okay to sometimes be frustrated or sad, for workers give them a day off without guilt. I walked to raise funds for research, with the hope that something can be found before my parents, aunts, and uncles grow older, and before my cousins, siblings, or self find ourselves eye-to-eye with the nasty beast.

News statistics say over 70,000 people in my province are impacted by Alzheimer’s, and that the numbers are expected to multiply dramatically over the coming years. I’m glad the Walk for Memories is our newest family tradition.