Since the past few days, I’ve been spending the daytime with my granny. As our day progresses, she has difficulty in remembering my name or who I am. She barely remembers if she had had her food a couple of minutes back. She keeps asking me for tea after every sentence. She keeps reading the same book over and over again like it is her first time with it.
People from her childhood and the things she did then are some of the only things she used to remember with certain clarity, a while back. Today I noticed that even these memories are slowly fading away. The pieces of life that once held her mind together are now falling off, like the old paint on her walls. The only thing that still remains strong and stable is her faith in her God.
The washed out paintings and frames of various saints and deities can be found in every room of her home, and she rightly places herself wherever she sits — in front of them, so They can keep watching over her.
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