My grandmother was diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease when I was in fifth grade. At that point in my life， I was a kid. I was selfish as all kids are， so I didn’t think twice about it. I had no idea how it would eventually affect my life， as well as my family， in such a large way.
　　 I have a very tight-knit family， and my grammy is the glue that holds us together. I remember going to my grandparents’ farmhouse every chance I could when I was a kid. My grammy would always make me chocolate milk and a Fluffer-Nutter sandwich. We would watch Winnie the Pooh movies and color—my grammy and I both love the smell of a new box of crayons. Sometimes， if I were lucky， she would take me to the barn to feed the calves or to see the new kittens. Little did I know， that these would be the childhood memories I would miss most of all.
　　 As I grew up， I noticed my grammy changing. At first， it was just little things. She would forget where she set her book， or she couldn’t find her purse. Once again， I didn’t think it was serious. I could never have guessed how it would progress， transforming my grammy into someone I could hardly recognize.
　　 There was one incident in particular that was my wake-up call. I remember thinking， “This isn’t a joke， and my grammy isn’t my grammy anymore. This is a serious disease.”
　　 About three years ago， a tornado went through our town. Although it was heading straight for my grandparents’farmhouse， it died down before destroying my childhood sanctuary. My father and I went to visit my grandparents the day after the storm， just to make sure they were okay. I went inside to find grammy. I gave her a hug and took my regular seat on the couch across from her. We passed the time by talking for hours on end， about anything and everything that was on our minds. The power was out， and it got dark in what seemed like a matter of minutes.
　　 Then， Grammy turned to me， and with empty eyes that stared right past me， asked， “Now you’re graduating this year， aren’t you？” I was a freshman， so I was confused why she was asking me about graduation. Grammy was the type of person who could tell you the exact date and time when every one of her grandchildren came into this world. Her innocent question caught me off guard. I assured her that no， I was not yet a senior; I still had a few years until graduation， and casually moved the conversation along.
　　 Soon， my father asked if I was ready to go home. I silently nodded my head yes， and we headed out. As soon as I got into the car， I started to cry. My father asked me what was wrong， and all I could manage to blurt out was， “Is grammy going to be at my graduation？” 　　 随着我渐渐长大，我慢慢注意到了奶奶的变化。刚开始，只是一些小事情。她会忘记把书放在哪里，或者找不到钱包。再一次地，我并不觉得这有什么大不了的。但我怎么也想不到这个病会越来越严重，把奶奶变成一个我几乎不认得的人。
　　 一件事尤其给我敲响了警钟。记得我当时是这样想的：“这不是开玩笑的，奶奶不再是原来的奶奶了。她得了重病。”
　　 大约三年前，一场龙卷风侵袭了我们的镇子。尽管这场龙卷风朝着我爷爷奶奶的农场进发，但在到达前就已消停，我的童年圣地没有遭到破坏。龙卷风过后的第二天，为了确认爷爷奶奶都没事，我和爸爸去看望了他们。我走进屋里找奶奶，给了她一个拥抱，便在她对面的沙发坐了下来，这是我一贯的位子。我们连续聊了好几个小时，想到什么就聊什么。聊着聊着，突然停电了，没过几分钟周围就暗了下来。
　　 然后，奶奶转向我，眼神空洞地盯着我的后方，问道：“你今年就要毕业了，是吗？”我才刚读大一。我很困惑为什么她会问我毕业的事。奶奶是个能准确说出她每个孙子孙女的出生日期和时间的人，我被她这个莫名其妙的问题问得措手不及。我告诉她不是的，我还没读大四，要过几年才毕业，然后便胡乱地转移了话题。
　　 没过多久，爸爸过来问我准备要回家了没。我默默地点点头，和爸爸走了出去。我一上车就哭了起来。爸爸问我发生什么事了，我只能竭力说出：“奶奶会参加我的毕业典礼吗？”
　　 爸爸久久没有回答，当他终于开口时，我从他的声音中听到了悲伤。“会的。她也许不知道自己在哪里，但无论如何，她一定会到场的。”我看着爸爸，泪水划过他的脸庞。我以前从未见过他落泪。接下来的车程里，我们都沉默不语。到家后，我直奔房间，锁上门，哭了好几个小时。那晚发生的事让我意识到，很快，一切都将变得不同于往日。
　　 自从那次与奶奶聊天过后，我就变得成熟、上进起来。现在她的阿尔茨海默病已经发展到了第三个阶段。在这个阶段，她对眼前的事物置若罔闻。当我看到她那种“我不知道我在哪里或者我在做什么”的神情，我就会自觉地帮她装食物或者扶她坐到椅子上。
　　 刚开始，我没有注意到其他家庭成员看我的奇怪眼神。然后，去年夏天，在一次家庭野餐上，当我帮奶奶切食物时，我一抬头就看到所有的叔叔阿姨、兄弟姐妹们都在看着我，我当时没有理会他们，而是继续帮助奶奶。过后，我问妈妈为什么他们这样看着我。她向我解释，他们只是依然把奶奶当成是照顾大家的角色。他们还没有意识到角色已经互换了。奶奶在独自照顾了这个大家庭这么多年后，现在她需要大家的帮助。
　　 现在，我对阿尔茨海默病有了更深刻的了解。奶奶病情的恶化对我们家产生了巨大的影响，也给我们带来了很大的压力。我知道，总有一天，奶奶将再也不能看着我对别人说，“那是我孙女，凯拉。”这让我感到很伤心。
　　 在我毕业那天，当我坐在舞臺上，等待领取毕业证书时，我的视线将会越过体育馆里拥挤的人群，看到我和奶奶和其他家庭成员坐在一起。她也许不明白发生了什么事，但她会到场。毕业典礼结束后，我会在蜂拥的人群里找到奶奶，然后给她一个拥抱。我知道有一天她会忘记我，但我不会为此苦恼。现在，我努力珍惜那些美好的日子，尽力度过那些糟糕的日子。她永远都是我的奶奶，我也永远都是她的孙女。