BY JENNIFER MADRIGAL
I learned my greatest lesson about love from my Grandpa Jester. Surprisingly, the lesson came long after his mind and memories had left him, and all that remained was just what he was at his core. My grandpa loved his family and his wife, and was genuinely kind to everyone. He stood for what he believed and defended his thoughts passionately, but with respect. When he was wronged, he looked at both sides and didn’t always assume he was right. But most of all, my grandpa was truly a good man.
Alzheimer’s disease came and stole parts of his mind and most of his memoires. While many people with this disease lose their “filters” and become increasingly more difficult, my grandpa stayed kind. Often times he would hop up and try and help out with the chores he always did. He would still make jokes and then forget the punch line, but laugh anyway. As his disease progressed, the secret winks he used to always give me from across the room stopped, and at that point I knew he had really forgotten me. However, he once told me that he couldn’t remember who I was but that he did know that he sure did love me. With all the great moments I shared with him, I always knew I was loved without end and that he was always proud of me. When my mother passed away, he sat at her funeral, tears streaming down his face, reliving her passing like a repeating loop in a bad movie. Although he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, he knew we were all hurting and it broke his heart.
The moment that I really understood what it means to love another person came one morning after my grandma had learned that her brother died. My grandpa sat in his chair watching her as she tried to hide the anguish she was feeling. Although we tried to keep him from seeing her upset, he continued to watch her and then stood up with his shaking legs and bad balance and walked into the kitchen with her. He took her into his arms and hugged her tight, telling her it would be okay. He saw her pain, and knew that “his girl” was hurting. That moment was so profound and even years later I can still see the look of concern on his face. At that moment I understood that love is not a word you say because it makes people smile, love is something that lives on long after your memories fade. It is what you know and feel at the very core of your being. When you truly love someone their pain becomes your pain and even when lost in the cloud of Alzheimer’s, or age, or whatever else, that love remains. To me, that’s what love is.
