My grandfather suffered from Alzheimer's disease. I can't describe much of it because I must have been 8 or 9 years old when I saw it happening. Here's what I remember, though. He was always in bed, lying on his back. He wore a diaper, which I assumed was humiliating even though there was no way to get him to the bathroom. He had scabs from being unable to move much. And then he had this tube down his nose that fed food right to his belly. It sucked. That's all I can say. It sucked seeing that confusion in his eyes. It sucked seeing him struggling as he was poked with needles and tubes and he couldn't say a word to defend himself.
My grandfather is the only father figure I've had in my life. He pleased all of my whims. He loved me unconditionally, far more than I deserved. He gave me all he could give me without any expectations. And much of the time, I was annoyed by his affection. I was little, I wanted to play with my friends. But he only asked a few minutes of my time so that I could sit with him while he told me an old story, gave me a tight hug, and told me how much he loved me. I remember pushing him away because my friends were watching and I didn't want to see uncool. I remember those last days, when he wouldn't remember his wife or his children, but he remembered me. Only me. Everyone was amazed to see this. They considered this an achievement. He always remembered me. I was the one face he never forgot. But I didn't want to see him in that bed. I didn't want to think of how painful it was to be in that situation.
Later on, he ended up at the hospital. My mom and her sisters and brothers had to take turns watching over him all night there. I never went to visit him. He was too sick, and I didn't know what I could do. I didn't even wonder if he would remember me then. It was my mom's turn to watch him, so I slept over at my uncle's house. I woke up in the middle of the night and rolled to my side. My younger cousin was there, and I woke her up. I told her I was scared, and she told me it was okay, that my grandfather had passed away, but he wouldn't be in pain anymore. I didn't believe her. She was probably mumbling in her sleep. I told her my grandpa would make it until the morning at least, but she said no. She believed that I woken up because I sensed his death. I ignored her and went back to sleep.
The following morning, my aunt and uncle drove me back home. My mom was there. I was playing with my other aunt's dog when my mom sat me down and told me that my grandpa had passed away in the middle of the night. I looked at my cousin and she frowned at me. I told my mom that it was okay, and that I wouldn't cry because I knew he was okay now. But I remember that hollowness I felt inside. All of that guilt and regret because this man loved me so much and I couldn't give him a few minutes of my day.
Anyway, reading this book made me think of him. Even before Ed was told what he had, I recognized every symptom. Alzheimer's is deteriorating and awful. And there's still no cure out there. I relived those days with my grandpa. I relived so much of my childhood, things I never wanted to think about. I don't know what to do with those memories now.
But through my experience, I was able to relate to Eileen and Connell. I didn't like either of them. But disliking characters for the mere fact that they were humans is odd. Every person I know has made as many mistakes as those two, and I'm sure their thoughts are even worse. I couldn't judge them. I didn't judge Eileen for cheating on Ed, although it did offend and hurt me so much. I couldn't see Sergei with love because I felt so much for Ed.
Connell recognized his errors, and I couldn't blame him for the way he behaved. I tried, and I couldn't. I felt as though I was a part of their family. As if I had been invited into their homes. I can't believe that these three characters aren't real. I can't accept that.
I think I loved Ed. I loved how he was, even though he wasn't expressive or emotional. He was Ed. How could you not love him? God I can't even think of what he went through. How small he must have felt. I loved that Eileen loved him even when he was in that home. I know that their marriage kind of crumbled with the disease, but Eileen was a good wife to him. She was so much more than I had expected. I loved their love, their marriage, their moments together. It made me long for a married life, a baby, it made me want things I didn't know I wanted. Eileen and Ed opened up my eyes. I don't want to close them again.
"Picture yourself in one of your cross-country races. It's a hard pace this day. Everyone's outrunning you. You're tired, you didn't sleep enough, you're hungry, your head is down, you're preparing for defeat. You want much from life, and life will give you much, but there are things it won't give you, and victory today is one of them. This will be one defeat; more will follow. Victories will follow too. You are not in this life to count up victories and defeats. You are in it to love and to be loved. You are loved with your head down. You will be loved whether you finish or not."
I've read many fiction stories. I've written a few fiction stories myself. When I'm reading, I'm often conscious of the fact that these characters are mere creations of people's imaginations. When the writing is done well, you can forget that this is a fact, and learn to love these fictional characters as you would any other living, breathing human being. What Matthew Thomas has done in We Are Not Ourselves is create by far the most realistic set of characters I have ever come across, in the entirety of my life.
Eileen is human. Entirely too human. I was able to see her grow and change and think every step of the way. She is by no means perfect, or even close to it, but that is her charm. She is a materialistic woman with a vault full of dreams and expectations. She wants to squeeze the world dry of everything it has to offer. Eileen is selfish and prideful and close-minded, but she is real.
Patience. The best word to describe this book is patience. It took the author a decade to write this book, by hand. I assume patience was the key part in that endeavor. While reading, I had patience as I lived every moment alongside the three main characters. Every character had to be patient at one point or another, because life wasn't patient with them. Life didn't wait for them, so they had to learn to be patient on their own.
I allowed myself to think of my future without putting up any mental walls, and I was afraid. Terrified. This life is short and unexpected. And my deepest fear is to build relationships with those around me. Any type of relationship I build adds to a stress pile. But I am grateful for the ones that I have, with my friends and my family.
That is the point of this books. Human relationships. Partnerships. Love. We are not ourselves. We are organisms capable of loving and supporting one another through adversity. A little cliche, but I like to believe in this. I like to think that life matters, not because we achieve financial success or accumulate goods. Life matters because we leave a trace after we leave this world on the people that we love.
My grandfather is the only father figure I've had in my life. He pleased all of my whims. He loved me unconditionally, far more than I deserved. He gave me all he could give me without any expectations. And much of the time, I was annoyed by his affection. I was little, I wanted to play with my friends. But he only asked a few minutes of my time so that I could sit with him while he told me an old story, gave me a tight hug, and told me how much he loved me. I remember pushing him away because my friends were watching and I didn't want to see uncool. I remember those last days, when he wouldn't remember his wife or his children, but he remembered me. Only me. Everyone was amazed to see this. They considered this an achievement. He always remembered me. I was the one face he never forgot. But I didn't want to see him in that bed. I didn't want to think of how painful it was to be in that situation.
Later on, he ended up at the hospital. My mom and her sisters and brothers had to take turns watching over him all night there. I never went to visit him. He was too sick, and I didn't know what I could do. I didn't even wonder if he would remember me then. It was my mom's turn to watch him, so I slept over at my uncle's house. I woke up in the middle of the night and rolled to my side. My younger cousin was there, and I woke her up. I told her I was scared, and she told me it was okay, that my grandfather had passed away, but he wouldn't be in pain anymore. I didn't believe her. She was probably mumbling in her sleep. I told her my grandpa would make it until the morning at least, but she said no. She believed that I woken up because I sensed his death. I ignored her and went back to sleep.
The following morning, my aunt and uncle drove me back home. My mom was there. I was playing with my other aunt's dog when my mom sat me down and told me that my grandpa had passed away in the middle of the night. I looked at my cousin and she frowned at me. I told my mom that it was okay, and that I wouldn't cry because I knew he was okay now. But I remember that hollowness I felt inside. All of that guilt and regret because this man loved me so much and I couldn't give him a few minutes of my day.
Anyway, reading this book made me think of him. Even before Ed was told what he had, I recognized every symptom. Alzheimer's is deteriorating and awful. And there's still no cure out there. I relived those days with my grandpa. I relived so much of my childhood, things I never wanted to think about. I don't know what to do with those memories now.
But through my experience, I was able to relate to Eileen and Connell. I didn't like either of them. But disliking characters for the mere fact that they were humans is odd. Every person I know has made as many mistakes as those two, and I'm sure their thoughts are even worse. I couldn't judge them. I didn't judge Eileen for cheating on Ed, although it did offend and hurt me so much. I couldn't see Sergei with love because I felt so much for Ed.
Connell recognized his errors, and I couldn't blame him for the way he behaved. I tried, and I couldn't. I felt as though I was a part of their family. As if I had been invited into their homes. I can't believe that these three characters aren't real. I can't accept that.
I think I loved Ed. I loved how he was, even though he wasn't expressive or emotional. He was Ed. How could you not love him? God I can't even think of what he went through. How small he must have felt. I loved that Eileen loved him even when he was in that home. I know that their marriage kind of crumbled with the disease, but Eileen was a good wife to him. She was so much more than I had expected. I loved their love, their marriage, their moments together. It made me long for a married life, a baby, it made me want things I didn't know I wanted. Eileen and Ed opened up my eyes. I don't want to close them again.
__________________________________________________________
"Picture yourself in one of your cross-country races. It's a hard pace this day. Everyone's outrunning you. You're tired, you didn't sleep enough, you're hungry, your head is down, you're preparing for defeat. You want much from life, and life will give you much, but there are things it won't give you, and victory today is one of them. This will be one defeat; more will follow. Victories will follow too. You are not in this life to count up victories and defeats. You are in it to love and to be loved. You are loved with your head down. You will be loved whether you finish or not."
I've read many fiction stories. I've written a few fiction stories myself. When I'm reading, I'm often conscious of the fact that these characters are mere creations of people's imaginations. When the writing is done well, you can forget that this is a fact, and learn to love these fictional characters as you would any other living, breathing human being. What Matthew Thomas has done in We Are Not Ourselves is create by far the most realistic set of characters I have ever come across, in the entirety of my life.
Eileen is human. Entirely too human. I was able to see her grow and change and think every step of the way. She is by no means perfect, or even close to it, but that is her charm. She is a materialistic woman with a vault full of dreams and expectations. She wants to squeeze the world dry of everything it has to offer. Eileen is selfish and prideful and close-minded, but she is real.
Patience. The best word to describe this book is patience. It took the author a decade to write this book, by hand. I assume patience was the key part in that endeavor. While reading, I had patience as I lived every moment alongside the three main characters. Every character had to be patient at one point or another, because life wasn't patient with them. Life didn't wait for them, so they had to learn to be patient on their own.
I allowed myself to think of my future without putting up any mental walls, and I was afraid. Terrified. This life is short and unexpected. And my deepest fear is to build relationships with those around me. Any type of relationship I build adds to a stress pile. But I am grateful for the ones that I have, with my friends and my family.
That is the point of this books. Human relationships. Partnerships. Love. We are not ourselves. We are organisms capable of loving and supporting one another through adversity. A little cliche, but I like to believe in this. I like to think that life matters, not because we achieve financial success or accumulate goods. Life matters because we leave a trace after we leave this world on the people that we love.