If I had only known

Last night I was trying to decide what to make for dinner. One option was goulash, but I wasn't sure exactly what to put in it. That got me to thinking about my grandma. She is in a nursing home in Sedgwick now, but back when she lived at home goulash was my favorite dinner that she made. Almost every time I would visit she would make a huge batch of goulash and mashed potatoes. I loved it and had seconds and even thirds most times. When I would talk to her she would ask when I wanted my special dinner again.
I wanted to call her and ask her what she made hers with last night, but ultimately knew I could not. She has Alzheimer's disease and I have a very real fear that she would not remember her recipe, or that I even liked it. I did not want to make her sad by reminded her that she cannot remember. And selfishly I did not want to know if she remembered all the dinners she had made for me. I like to believe that she does.
What made me sad the most was what I don't remember, though. While I do have lots of memories about eating and playing at Grandma and Grandpa's, I can't recall the last time I had Grandma's goulash. Or Grandpa's pancakes. Or the last time we all sat around their dining room table talking and laughing. Or the last time Grandpa could walk around unassisted. He has Parkinson's disease and is in pretty bad shape. I racked my brain and came up with so many memories of being with them, but not the ones I really needed. Why didn't I see those times as special? Why didn't I see that things would NEVER be the same again? Why did I take it all for granted?
Grandma and Grandpa will not be here forever. I realize and understand this fact. But it is so hard to watch them slowly slip away from us in mind and body. They have always been great Grandparents. Despite having lots of grand kids they always managed to make us feel special and loved. I know without a shadow of a doubt that my mom and her siblings did the right thing placing them in a home. We did not abandon them, we put them somewhere that they can be taken care of the way they need to be. We all go to see them as often as our busy lives allow. I love them so much. I am going to miss those goulash dinners, the pancakes, the nursery rhymes that Grandpa would purposely screw up so I could correct him. I miss them as they were. Vibrant. Full of life and love. Always up to tell a good story from the "old days". Always ready for as many hugs and kisses as I could give them. I think they are just tired now. Tired from the diseases that are waging war on their bodies. Tired from not being able to do the things that most want to do. Tired from living a full life.
This post is to them, even though I cannot even imagine either of them getting on a computer! I wrote to remind myself and all of you reading this that things are not infinite. Things change and eventually end. Grasp every memory while you can. Write it down, take pictures. Make it so one day you won't be standing in your kitchen holding a can of tomato sauce and crying because you don't remember your last goulash meal.