A Quiet Place to Land

The walls of Raymond’s living room were white, the kind of white that could bleach a life away. Framed photos of his family and a small collection of paintings gave the space vitality at a time when most of his own escaped him. December sunlight filtered through his fifth-floor apartment window with purity. It had been months since he last stepped outside, but he convinced himself it had just been yesterday.

“Maria, what time is it?” Raymond asked as he squinted towards the clock.

“It’s 11:05,” his wife answered. She sat beside him, just like she had done for the past 45 years.

“What time will Sadie be here?” Raymond asked for the third time in the past hour.

“Noon.” Maria said. The patience in her voice always helped Raymond refocus.

“Can you iron my suit?” Raymond asked. “The dark gray one.”

Maria couldn’t help but smile. It was mixed with hope and relief, but the lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes allowed her to believe that even a small part of him was still there.

“Of course,” she said. She got up from the couch and walked to their shared bedroom closet. Ironing his finest suit was the least she could do.

Every Saturday for the past few years, their daughter came over for lunch at noon. It was in their Brooklyn kitchen where Sadie showed off photos from her latest travels and Maria baked apple pie for dessert. That kitchen served as a meeting place for their love, where Raymond held on to all that was internally falling apart. It was where Sadie announced her engagement and Raymond eventually announced his diagnosis with Alzheimer’s disease, over bowls of chicken pot pie soup and napkins soaked in tears.

Each week after Raymond’s diagnosis, Sadie came over with a little black notebook and a slew of questions about his life before she was born. She wrote down every little piece of information and filled each page with stories of her father, just in case tomorrow never came. It was her attempt to counteract what Alzheimer’s disease was slowly doing to his memory, as it quietly robbed him of himself. It was the only way she knew how to keep him forever.

But that Saturday was different. Raymond got dressed up for the occasion, he combed back his hair and tucked a neatly folded handkerchief into his pocket. It took most of his energy to get dressed that day, but the effort was worth it. Sadie was coming at noon, with her newly born son.

All the aches and pains, all the worries and missteps, and all the lost memories seemed to disappear in the single moment Raymond met his grandson for the first time. His only daughter, the shining force in his life, had a child of her own. On most days, Raymond had a hard time comprehending even the simplest of tasks, but it was easy for him to understand the love that ignited for his grandchild.

“Meet Gabriel,” Sadie said. She sat down next to Raymond on the couch and positioned Gabriel towards him.

Raymond stretched out his hand and Gabriel’s miniature fingers instantly grabbed hold of Raymond’s pointer finger. Gabriel’s whole hand grasped at his grandfather’s finger as if it were his lifeline to the past, as if everything in his existence depended on that of his grandfather’s.

“Gabriel,” Raymond repeated his name. “Look at all of his hair,” Raymond said in amazement.

Gabriel was born with a full head the color of midnight, just like Sadie’s.

“Do you want to hold him?” Sadie asked.

Raymond nodded in agreement, and even though he couldn’t articulate the correct words fast enough, the excitement in his aging eyes said yes. Raymond held his grandson in his thinning arms, the warmth of Gabriel’s hands made Raymond’s love beat faster.

But soon after meeting his grandson for the first time, Raymond’s shell started to crack.

The shell that protected Raymond from Alzheimer’s disease had been slowly eroding for years. It was delicate and had an expiration date. It was nearly weightless but held the weight of the world in its hands. It waited for the right time to finally give out, to surrender to the strength of time and fate.

Alzheimer’s disease took over with the brunt of strong gale force winds, but at the speed of sand slowly falling through an hourglass. Sadie’s hugs and Maria’s patience couldn’t stop what destiny had planned. There was no amount of resiliency or determination that could bring the disease to its knees. It was only a matter of time before beautiful parts of Raymond disappeared behind the fog of dementia.

There were times when his confusion was minimal, but there were other days when Raymond couldn’t take it. When Gabriel’s shrieks and cries became too much for his aging ears and mind to handle. When everyday conversations became overwhelming, when all Raymond wanted to do was tune out the world that often times left him with more confusion than clarity. On those days, Gabriel orbited around him, much like a growing moon that always filled the earth with light, but Raymond had to shut his family out. His mind had too much information to absorb, too many sights and sounds to process, and not enough bandwidth to do so. So he closed his eyes, as his grandson fervently explored the world around him with the same passion and curiosity Raymond once had for most of his life.

Raymond continued to shrink into a quieter person, he became more of an audience spectator rather than an active participant. He had moments of animation, where he engaged with Gabriel the way a grandfather should, the way it was meant to be. In those moments, Maria and Sadie were allowed a glimpse back at the man they loved, the one who didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body, the gentleman who opened doors for others and cherished moments with family more than much else he ever accumulated in his life. Those moments became rare, but it didn’t make it any less magical.

On a Saturday afternoon, Gabriel took his first steps in Raymond’s apartment. While Maria and Sadie cheered and clapped in excitement, Raymond pulled out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and his opaque fingers fidgeted with its corners. His right hand trembled with a combination of old age and nerves. The hands that once held his family together with solidarity shook without control.

He dabbed the handkerchief against the corners of his eyes until the cloth soaked up the few tears he had reserved, for that moment in time. Raymond’s voice was vulnerable while his mind did endless acrobatic moves around his daily life. He so desperately tried to find a quiet place to land in a reality that had none. His grandson walked forward at the same time Raymond had a hard time standing up on his own.

But the clarity of Raymond’s mind and emotions only stayed around for so long. In one moment, Raymond fought back tears of happiness over his grandson’s accomplishments, and in the next, he had a hard time remember his grandson’s name was Gabriel. It was only a matter of time until confusion set in, like it always did. It often hid there in plain sight. Any type of conversation could trigger it, and any news of change could heighten it to its peak. Raymond’s eyes deepened every time it happened, as if another entity all together shined through his once understanding eyes. He searched for something to hold on to, anything that could provide him comfort, something that was real.

The only reality that none of them wanted to accept was that Alzheimer’s disease would always have the last say. It took his last words and erased his last thoughts. It drained him of his energy and tried to take away his dignity, but it never had the chance to take away the burning love he had for his family. On the evening after Gabriel took his first steps, Maria helped Raymond into bed one last time as he kissed her on the cheek. Raymond waited until she was fast asleep before he passed away.

A slowing of weeks turned into the changing of seasons after Raymond left the world. Sadie and Gabriel still spent every Saturday with Maria, where they read bits of the little black notebook together and found a sense of solace in his life well lived. His constant suffering and whirlwind of confusion were ultimately no match against everlasting memories of his happiness.

Weeks after the funeral, Sadie opened an envelope and slipped out a standard letter of condolence from her father’s life insurance company, along with a check for $20,000. The thin piece of paper trembled from the uncontrolled nerves in her hand and she tried to fight against a tide of tears. She folded the check in half and slipped it into her little black notebook, as Gabriel climbed onto the cushion of the couch where Raymond once sat. The money and the notebook of memories would one day be Gabriel’s. Sadie kissed her son on his forehead and pushed away stray hairs from his face, as they sat in a living room with walls white enough to bleach a life away.