My Grandmother passed away this evening. And, while it is a sad affair, especially for my mom, all of my aunts, and my uncle, it’s also a huge release. I guess you can say I’ve been lucky because I haven’t had to deal with any of the struggles over the last several years because I live so far away. She’s suffered from Alzheimer for quite a while now, and as a result, the journey at the end of her life was a chaotically inconsistent one.

My Grandparents never had much of anything, except a lot of family. I wasn’t very close to my Grandmother, even before we moved to North Dallas, but many of my fondest memories are with all of the family. The last time I saw my Grandmother I wasn’t a child anymore and her state had progressed enough that she couldn’t figure out who I was. I knew from the letters she had sent my sister while she was in the hospital, and the gifts the occasionally accompanied them, that mentally she wouldn’t be able to reconcile the gap between the present and her memories. So, in a way, when I last saw her, at my paternal grandpa’s funeral, I said good-bye to two grandparents. But the reality is, this is the final and real good-bye. And despite having already realized that the woman that was my Grandmother had become more like a child, and having already processed the emotions that accompany loss, the real good-bye is still sad. She is in a much better place, her suffering has finally ended, and everyone can rejoice in that regardless of the level of loss her real passing produces.

But the reality is, this is the final and real good-bye. And despite having already realized that the woman that was my Grandmother had become more like a child, and having already processed the emotions that accompany loss, the real good-bye is still sad. She is in a much better place, her suffering has finally ended, and everyone can rejoice in that regardless of the level of loss her real passing produces.

Her struggle is one that I fear a lot, though. I have the genetic dispossession for early Alzheimer, which for someone that values their mental faculties so much is a truly frightening aspect of growing older. While the possibility of not finishing our final years out on Earth solving the most complex problems is still disappointing, living the final years of our lives with all of our baggage that we refuse to let go and the bitterness that has seeped into our hearts is significantly worse. I don’t wish dementia on anyone, but I realized that some of us might just need a more authoritative reset in our lives before we’re called home. I’m sure many people close to me would enjoy me much more during my final days if I had the innocence of a child and the opportunity to reboot my view of the world.

I don’t believe that Alzheimer patients are cursed by God so that they have to live life again like a child before they die. But, I do believe that God can use those final years to repair those around us and maybe even help us truly enjoy the world again before we depart. It’s an opportunity for those that take life too seriously. I may be a huge advocate for understanding and sharing unconditional love, but if I died today, my jaded and calloused heart would have left scars on others’ hearts without me having the time to help mend their wounds. And that made me realize that many of us need self-inflicted dementia so that we can stop the excuses and the hurting, and start the healing. Christ showed us unconditional love, and as a result, we are expected to share it with others. Loving unconditionally is so much easier with the innocence and mindset of a child.

Stop taking life so seriously and really live. Which means you have to leave your junk behind and let God’s love heal you so you’ll be free to love others.