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Dementia

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We were made for each other, my mother used to say. We were both skinny, forgetful, and stubborn. Made for each other, my mother would repeat emphatically, shaking her head and smiling. I would just roll my eyes at my grandmother as she laughed. While my sister was mummy’s girl and my brother, papa’s boy, I was always my grandmother’s cucu. Granddaughter. By all accounts, my grandmother was a wonderful person. My mother told numerous stories of the sacrifices my grandmother made to support her family of seven. My uncle spoke of trips to the market with her when he…