Loving My Lola Through Dementia

These were some of the last words I whispered to Lola before she passed away.

My relationship with my grandmother was far from perfect. She had lived with my family during my growing years, and had a strong personality that clashed with mine.

Sometimes it was over something small, like refusing to join in when the family would share jokes with each other. She also criticised us for spending money on dining in nice restaurants, even though we didn’t do it excessively.

What hurt me most was when she would lose her temper while scolding me or discussing family issues with my parents. These conflicts often left deep wounds, and we became used to giving each other space. After a particularly heated argument, she would go and stay at a relative’s house.

After I left the Philippines to study in South Korea, we grew even more distant. I would temporarily set our issues aside whenever I had to leave for the school year.

In early 2020, I noticed that Lola became even harsher and more quick-tempered. She often got mad at our helper, and was always criticising her work or hurling false accusations at her. Whenever we defended our helper, Lola would then get mad at us. Her behavior was hurtful, so even though we lived together in one house, I avoided her as much as I could.

Her condition declined as the pandemic went on, and was worsened by the fact that she had been bedridden since 2019 due to an accident. The isolation didn’t help, especially since she was used to having people over. Eventually, our hunch was confirmed when she was officially diagnosed with dementia.

This became very real for loving someone with dementia. I had to decide to love Lola every day. Moment by moment. As her dementia worsened, each moment required a reset button—everything I had done or said to her minutes ago would get flushed from her memory, leaving her mind a blank slate.

One moment Lola would say, “I love you”, then 10 minutes later she would accuse me of abandoning her. After meals, she would forget that we had already fed her and would get mad at us for not giving her food, claiming that she had not yet eaten. Her mood swings often caused her to throw tantrums, shout at us, or say hurtful words.

It’s always been hard for me to ask for or extend forgiveness whenever I feel like the other person is not willing to admit to and resolve the issues on hand. For years, this hardness characterised my relationship with Lola. I never mustered the courage to say sorry to her, even for the times I was at fault, and we never sat down to address our hurts. But during the lockdown, God placed a burden in my heart to ask my Lola for forgiveness and to also extend it to her.