Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash

A few weeks ago, I went back to my hometown with my wife — I’m trying to make sense of who I am; I’m trying to remember. I saw my grandma for the first time in two years. She has dementia and doesn’t communicate very well anymore. We sat together, and I felt the same love for her that I’d always felt — she’s a stubborn old woman, sort of lost in her own memories of those she’s lost — a picture of her seven-year-old daughter, who passed of sickness as a child, and her…