THE SANDS OF TIME
‘Kathryn, Kathryn?’ repeated the call, interrupting my thoughts. I can feel the warm rays of searing sun beating down on me. There is not one single fluffy cloud in the tranquil, cornflower sky. Below, the sea is a picture of perfect calm; little waves washing onto unspoiled, golden sands. The smell of sharp, salty sea stings my nostrils and everything seems wonderful with my lovely family here. A delightful picnic is packed carefully in the boot of our trusty, red car. All the same, I can’t help feeling something’s not quite right. Everything seems sort of hazy. Never mind, I’m not going to dwell on it, especially now Dad’s unpacking our glorious lunch. We’re allowed to tuck in, so I sprint over and begin eating before my two greedy elder brothers devour it all! Yet still there’s that nagging feeling at the back of my mind, but I’m choosing to ignore it and go for a relaxing swim. It’s so peaceful out here. I close my eyes and lie back comfortably on my lilo listening to the screech of gulls overhead. I can see my family enjoying themselves on the beach. I don’t know why I was so worried. Everything’s fine, just fine. My eyes grow heavy as I’m overcome with tiredness. My eyelids start to droop… After what seems only a few minutes, I awake and stare in horror at the blurred horizon. A mist seems to have descended, swiftly enveloping me. I peer frantically for my beloved family; waving, screaming at the top of my voice but it’s futile. They can’t hear me. They can’t see me. It’s too late. The mist has now engulfed them. Salty tears begin streaming down my face. Uncontrollably. ‘Kathryn, dear. It’s your granddaughter!’ announced the care worker cheerily, gently shaking granny’s arm. She just sits there. Indifferent. Her frail, wrinkled hands tremble, oblivious to the world around her. She looks at me blankly as though she doesn’t know me. Maybe she doesn’t any more. It’s hard to remember my dear granny without dementia. It’s only been a few years since it all began; yet it seems like forever. Sometimes I ask mum what she was like before but it’s not the same as really knowing her. Despite this I love her just the same. She squeezes me tightly as though she’ll never let go, perhaps an indication as to how loving she once was. Experts say it’s important to engage and stimulate people with dementia, by looking through photos or even just having conversations. Suddenly I remember the cardboard box of old photos I used to enjoy looking at when I was little. With renewed interest, I rush to get them from under her bed and blow off the thick covering of dust. That’s when I see it – a picture of my granny in her youth, surrounded by her family, standing grinning happily up at the camera on a beautiful beach. A flicker of recollection momentarily passes across her face...