Hi Oma, what a shame your youngest son didn’t introduce us sooner, in time for me to properly know you before Alzheimer’s took over your personality.
Partly it was FIL, who told my DH at 27 that he was not bring home any more girlfriends to meet you both (he’d introduced you to 2 only). Only bring home the ‘final’ one, that he was going to marry, FIL said. What sadness that edict brought to everyone. DH abided by it, and it resulted that no one realised or acknowledged your dementia decline like I would have done. You just sat and smiled endlessly, as the menfolk excused your ‘failures’ to others at endless tables.
They loved you, but put you on a strange pedestal. Getting medical expert help for you was as likely as them joining the circus.
By the time I finally met you, I think you only vaguely understood who I was to you. A kindly strangely who held your favourite son’s hand a lot, probably. And a woman who surprisingly washed your dishes and brushed your hair.
I hope you know now, after death freed you from that disease, that I did my best for your little boy. I can’t make 7 layer creamy nutty cakes for him like you did, but I have made a vaguely modern man of him. And our daughter would have loved you. Especially the cakes, I cannot lie.
Oh, and please look up my granny in heaven. You’d get along very well together, even if heaven hasn’t figured out the language barrier thing. Which they likely have. 