Dovie Sue

Dovie Sue is my grandmother. She's in the last stages of Alzheimers. In the past months she's gone from someone who could wake up in the morning, walk, enjoy food, know faces, have a
conversation, to someone who is vacant, distant, in pain.

Perhaps she understands more than it seems, perhaps, but I don't think so.

I saw her over Easter.

Her eyes are cloudy, vacant and I can just barely see the woman who used to run her own business, who would always say her boys were perfect and her grandchildren were too, the woman who traveled to Europe and even came with my Grandpa to travel around Wales with me when I was living there as an exchange student. She was a sharp dresser, had a quick wit and a big big heart. For years she ran "Young Togs" a children's store in Sylacauga, Alabama. As they said there, "there wasn't a child buried that didn't have something pretty to wear." It may sound gruesome to donate clothes for funerals, but Dovie felt it was a comfort to their family. She also made sure kids had clothes for school and recitals.

The nurses call her Lovey Dovey. They all say she's their favorite patient as she never has a cross word.

Alzheimer's hasn't made her mean, it's just taken bits of her away, little by little.