Ana maria se fue Buscando sol en la playa 

The song my grandma made up and sung to me when I was little, 

“Ana Maria, she goes in search of the sun at the beach.” 

It was always just a cute little rhyme she would sing to me 

Like sana sana or one of the many other little songs she would sing to her grandkids 

But this one was special it was just for me, my song from my Mimi 

It made me giggle and eventually my whole family would sing it to me. 

But I didn't realize how special it was until she stopped singing it to me 

My grandma has a disease that eats away at her mind slowly 

Stealing pieces of her memories, her essence, and her soul and hiding them from her 

Some it hides deep in her mind and some it takes and runs away with them forever

In the beginning it little things like that the stove was on

Or where the tikki tikki was 

Things we didn't notice because she was always a little forgetful 

But then it got to be bigger, she would forget I was her granddaughter

She would forget our names or our faces,

Eventually, she started to forget that she loved us, she became cruel and mean, and abusive 

And then she was gone, My grandma the woman who played a part in raising me 

Whose mind was full of ideas and whose smile and essence filled a room until it was so full the windows burst open 

The women who taught us to do the same with our essence 

The matriarch of our family was gone 

Her body is still there, breathing, eating, sleeping, and laughing sometimes but she is not there. 

Every once in a while you saw a piece of the woman she was

like she found one of the tiny pieces stolen from her 

as quick as it came it was gone  

I think perhaps those moments are the most painful because you finally come to terms with the fact that she is gone

and then for a minute there she is staring back at you with fierce eyes and that energy that flows off her like a waterfall 

One day I was sitting with her Alzheimers home’s kitchen with the rest of my family 

I was talking to her

even though she doesn't remember me I still have a certain talent to make her laugh 

We all love to see her laugh 

so if anyone can make it happen we get them to keep making her laugh for as long as possible 

As I sat with her and sung little songs that she hummed along too vaguely remembering the melodies 

Then she looked at me and said

“Cómo te llamas? 

I smiled “me llamo Ana Maria soy tu nieta.” I replied. She smiled giggles and said something that sounded like, you are not my granddaughter you are too pretty to be my granddaughter 

My father laughed and said “Ella es tu nieta, mi hija, se llama Ana Maria.”

She smiled and then began to sing shakily in her weak voice 

Ana Maria se fue Buscando sol en la playa 

I had not heard her sing that song in almost 4 years

She went back to speaking disconnected sentences that were not in English or Spanish 

But for that split second there she was 

Standing on her patio in her apron calling me inside from the yard where I had been hiding and eating all the peaches 

There she was tucking me in at night after she told me to never let anyone try and smother my light 

For that split second, she was there 

and then as quickly as the song ended she was gone again

This was a feeling I was familiar with 

It's the feeling of grief you feel when someone dies 

It's a feeling I had to get accustomed to because you will feel it about a 100 times before your loved one actually dies 

Because with Alzheimers your loved one is gone long before they die 

They had their essence stolen from them before their heart stopped beating and their soul left their body 

Every once in a while they find one of those stolen pieces and suddenly you are with them again and then it is plucked from their hand and they are gone and once again you feel the grief, the chest hurting, eyes prickling, vocal cords tight in preparation to let out a wail, hands shaky, body aches grief that makes you just want to sink to your knees and cry 

The problem was she wasn't dead she was still there looking at me confused 

I couldn't sink to my knees I had to keep talking 

So I did we kept making conversation about little things, about salt shakers and I would nod and laugh as she spoke gibberish to me 

But as she talked my eyes prickled and my throat grew tight as I fought to hold back the tidal wave of grief 

My father gave my hand a squeeze and my cousin offered me a sip of her Fanta

These are little comforts we offer each other 

as we all are familiar with that soul-crushing feeling

Watching the woman we love, who raised us all, taught us everything we know, and brought joy energy, and magic to our lives 

disappear into the mind that once made her who she was 

We lose her over and over again 

and so we squeeze each other's hands and we offer each other sweet drinks just like she taught us too 

Because she always knew one day her time would come but she would not die

She did after all teach us how to make our essence so big it filled a room and burst out of the windows 

She gave us a little of her essence to make ours bigger