By 2006, I had lost three of my grandparents. The last one, my maternal Grandfather, and I barely had a relationship. All I remember of his house during my early life was being afraid of the dog, as he was a dog breeder. We saw him once, maybe twice a year, and sometimes it would just be my Mum who went in, although they had a damaged relationship too.

Years ago, my Granddad got sick; he started having fits in the brain that were probably brought on by his alcoholism. Eventually he was diagnosed with Dementia, or more specifically, Alzheimer’s disease. And over the past few years, we’ve watched him slowly fade away.

My Granddad was probably the most intelligent man I’ve ever met, but he was not a happy man. He was born the oldest boy of eleven children to an impoverished mining family in a small town in Scotland. He lived an unhappy childhood, excelling at school but being unable to go to the local Grammar as his parents couldn’t afford the uniform, he left young. He met my Grandma at the local dance, as she lived in the next village across, and they married young. He had four children, and they pretended to be a happy family, but hidden behind that was pain. My Granddad self-medicated his depression with alcohol and he couldn’t hold down a job, my Grandma walked out on him many times, but always returned. I didn’t know my Grandma, but I think he was shattered when she died.

After my Granddad was diagnosed, he seemed the same to be exactly the same, he was slightly forgetful, but other than that there was no difference. We didn’t see him much, so by the next time we saw him he had started to forget things. It was never big stuff, but he seemed to believe that my Uncle Ben moved to Australia immediately after my Grandma died, when in reality there was years in between. As well as that, he would fill in blank space with what didn’t happen. Years passed where more and more of what happened recently left his brain.

He used to have a nurse come in and clean up, make tea and make sure he was okay. He continued this way for years; we began visiting him more frequently as the reality of the situation dawned on us. My Uncle Robert was left mainly in charge of his care as my Mum and Uncle Ben no longer lived in Scotland. Last year, Uncle Robert became my Granddad’s official Guardian. As my Granddad’s memory continued to fade, he was moved into a full care home very near to his house.

My Granddad doesn’t recognise anyone. Up until recently, he would give my Mum a familiar smile even if he didn’t understand why he recognised her, he would always have the TV on to some dreadful daytime TV and he would seem to understand what was being said to him at a basic level. Now he doesn’t see anything in me or my Mum, he has the radio on because he stopped concentrating on the image and he doesn’t really understand a word we’re saying.

Sometimes when I walk through the home, I see other elderly people who sometimes stop to have a talk to me; it’s nice but heart-breaking. To watch someone who was so intelligent yet so sad fade away is so hard. And you never really get to say goodbye.