Explaining to the little ones, what's happening to Nanny

I remember the first change my Niece noticed in Mum. We were all sitting and watching TV in the early afternoon. Mum liked antique programmes at the time and didn't mind conversations going on in the room while she watched them, especially from the kids.

My Niece asked a simple question, and Mum turned, scowled at her, and told her to "be quiet!!" This was surprising because Mum never spoke that way, especially to her Grandchildren. My Niece laughed it off, saying, "You're not being very nice to me, Nanny," in a joking manner, visibly feeling awkward. I corrected Mum for her outburst and asked if something was wrong, to which she returned to her usual self and softly replied, "Of course not."

Later, I noticed my Niece looking a bit somber, so I took the opportunity to talk to her about Alzheimer's. Being 11 years old at the time, I kept the explanation simple to avoid scaring her, but to help her understand that this wasn't her Nan, just a part of the disease she had. I explained how important the brain is for everything we do and who we are, and when it becomes damaged, we change.

While it upset us all to see the constant changes in Mum, talking openly together and doing some research helps. We are human, and things will catch us off guard, but we all know how much she loves us, and that remains despite the disease. You learn to love in different, deeper ways; after all, Mum doesn't mean to be nasty to any of us.

As my Niece grew into her teenage years, her understanding of Alzheimer's and all it can bring visibly increased. She learned how to comfort her Nan in tough times and when to step away. She's grateful for every moment with her and for allowing her to witness the constant changes in her Nan. We always gave her the choice to stay away and never forced her to be around something upsetting. It was important for us to let their relationship continue, educating her about the other side of life, when some people aren't as lucky to live the lives they hoped for. Who would choose a dementia diagnosis for their future, after all?.

The love they share doesn't need words; it's felt in every moment, even the difficult ones!

A touching moment on my Niece’s 16th birthday occurred when we lit the candles on her cake and began to sing 'Happy Birthday'. Mum, now not knowing the words but still somewhat familiar with the tune, sang her own song to my Niece, expressing her love and giving her a long hug. I could tell this was a moment both of them would cherish forever.

These small moments remind us that love is never lost; the way we express it may change, but love remains. Years before, on special occasions, Mum would feel embarrassed for not remembering how to make a cake and host a birthday celebration like she used to. What she didn’t realise was that none of that mattered—her presence did.