On a warm August day I was sitting on the patio of my grandpa's home just outside of Seattle talking to him about the things that he loves. This includes but isn’t limited to family, the Cleveland Indians, and the New York Giants. God, I tell you this man is the biggest Cleveland Indians fan in the entire world, and he isn’t even from Cleveland. When he noticed I was wearing the Cleveland Indians hat he gave me many years ago he smiled and sarcastically said, “That’s a nice hat, where’d you get it.”

I just laughed and shook my head thinking, “the guy still has it”. It’s moments like this when I almost forget that my grandfather suffers from Alzheimer's.

Back in elementary school and middle school, I wrestled for the town recreation program. It was about this time that my grandfather took up spinning. For those who don’t know, spinning is an exercise done on a stationary bike to loud music and simulated trails and routes. I can vividly remember heading out to wrestling practice in the required uniform and seeing him (on his winter visit from the west coast) in virtually the same attire as me and thinking “what the heck is he wearing?!” You see, when you “spin” you essentially wear a wrestling singlet. At least that’s what my 70 year old grandfather did! As he headed to the gym, with his Indians hat on, and I headed off to practice, we gave eachother a nod of approval and started cracking up. It was such a happy and funny moment we shared that I know I will never forget. It just kills me knowing that he already has.

After sitting on the patio for awhile, I could see he was getting tired. The conversation became more scattered between baseball and football, his days as a kid in Paterson, NJ and even the cars he used to drive. It was hard to follow what my grandfather was saying because he has a hard time recalling things from even the most recent conversation so topics seems to overlap and jump around. We drifted in and out conversations of how well his beloved Cleveland Indians were doing and how we thought they would make it all the way to the World Series. (Which they did)  Eventually, I stood up to help him out of his chair. This is the same man who only a few years ago would exercise for hours. He now loses his balance and leans to one side because his brain can’t recall what to do. As we walked back inside at his very slowed pace, he held my arm with one hand and with the other he patted me on my head and gave a nod to my hat.

When my grandfather went inside to take a rest, I started thinking about the past 15 years. Since he lives on the west coast, we have always had to get on a plane and fly at least six hours to go see him. I can remember being as young as six or seven and just being overcome with joy on the ride to the airport. For me, at that age he was the fun grandparent, the one that takes you to fun places, gets you cool toys, and is just all-around fun to be with. He always looked and acted much younger than he actually was. We would go to the zoo, watch him umpire high school baseball games and drive around in his car. Even though these memories bring me so much joy, they also bring me a harsh sense of reality and a lot of sadness. The man that used to take me on joy rides in his convertible can no longer drive a car.

As the days of my most recent trip to the Pacific Northwest rolled along, it became apparent to me how so many things have changed. I looked around my grandfather’s house and tried to take a mental picture of everything around me. I didn’t want to forget a thing. I looked at the Giants blanket on the couch and remembered the forts we used to make underneath it. There were pictures of my family and reminders of how active, adventurous and engaged he was. And then there was the photo of all of us at a Cleveland Indians game. He was wearing my hat. That’s the one photo that takes my breath away. Although he is very much alive, there’s such a large part of him that’s gone missing.

Since my last visit I can tell by our phone conversations that the disease is continuing to rob him of his thoughts and memories. After a lot of prompting, we can get through a phone call with only a few “replays”. When I hang up the phone so many thoughts run through my mind...When will he not know my name? Does he realize how much he’s already forgotten? Will he always smile when he sees the hat? I hope he never gives up trying.