Grosspapa doesn’t remember things anymore. When we play Eile Mit Viele together, he has to ask which color he is before almost every turn, ” Ich bin rot gau? I guess the nice thing about not remembering is that you don’t remember that you don’t remember.
He loves to sit in his apartment, on his favorite side of the couch. He has a few topics that he loves to expound on. The thing is, he doesn’t remember that he has just talked to me about one of them. Several times a day, or hour, he’ll say, “I like this apartment.” And then tell me how nice the light is, how open the floor plan, how much he enjoys the balcony, and so on.
His other favorite topic is about the man’s place in the home. He goes on and on about how some men have a special chair, or favorite place they like to sit in their home, but he doesn’t. He likes to sit here sometimes, or there, or there. The funny thing is, he does have a special place! The whole time we were there, he only sat in one spot in the living room.
Grosspapa seems to be happy, even though his short term memory is gone. He can be really funny too – One evening I was leaving the living room and said, “Well, I guess I’ll go brush my teeth.” He reached toward his mouth and said, “Do you want to brush mine too?” as if to hand me his teeth!
It’s interesting how we age, he is in pretty good health – but doesn’t remember anything, and Grossmama’s mind is sharp as a tack, but her health is poor. It’s good they can depend on each other for help. Grossmama remembers the day of the week and their appointments, and Grosspapa can lift the pots down from the shelf in the kitchen for her.
I wonder how Clark and I will age. I’m not sure I’d want to live to be 95 unless I was in pretty good health.