This week’s column is the third in a series titled, “Love Letters To My Son” — a collection of random texts, notes and letters between John Fountain and his son, now 17 and a high school senior.
Sometime in fall 2018, An essay — Son: “Memory, just as everything else, eventually degrades over time, inevitably becomes skewed and tarnished as the years go by, similar to a fading picture not properly kept.
“However, memories do not do this because they are themselves inherently fallible. Rather it is sometimes due to the frailty of the human mind in which memories reside. The mind eventually deteriorates, like leaves that turn brown and fall from the limbs of trees after their season has passed.
“Diseases like Alzheimer’s and dementia that affect the brain cause premature deterioration. They are akin to wildfires within the mind. They start off small and unnoticeable. But over time, they turn into an uncontrollable inferno that engulfs the entire psyche, slowly burning everything, leaving only ash.
“I have witnessed the slow burn, which leads to the inevitable inferno that is Alzheimer’s disease with my grandmother. I watched as the fires repeatedly ate away at her memories and also a part of her soul.
“Sometimes playing my saxophone for my grandmother helped restore her memories and soothe her soul. But the fires always returned, threatening in time to consume her whole.
“We received a call that my grandmother was dying. … We waited the entire night with her until the next morning came. In the morning, all of the adults left to take care of things.
While everyone was gone, it was just me, my grandfather and my grandmother left in her room. Then her breath began to slow more and more as she looked at me until eventually it stopped entirely. The nurses came in and called my family.
“At that moment, I remember not feeling anything. I did not cry or weep like the rest of my family. At the moment, I did not know why. Maybe it was due to my relief that her suffering was over. Or maybe it was that I personally saw her pass on and was in complete shock.
“Whatever the case, all I know is that when she left a part of me left as well.
“After my grandmother passed, I wanted to give something back to the nursing home that took care of her. I started a group with my friends that played music for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients in nursing homes.
“I learned through my journey with my grandmother and Alzheimer’s that music is the one thing that can calm the fires of the human mind and help rekindle memories, if only for a while.
“I do this not only for the residents of nursing homes but also in memory of my grandmother. I do this so that I will never forget.”
Sunday Oct. 14, 2018; 12:53 p.m. — Dad: “Hey Malik, I just read your piece. … Powerful and beautiful. I had to put my sunglasses on so no one could see my tears.
“I’m sorry you experienced that, on the one hand. But on the other, I’m glad your presence was comforting enough for Grandma to pass from this life to the next, looking into the eyes of the son of the man whom she said she trusted more than anyone in the world.
I remember my own grandmother when things are tough. That’s why I ride with her picture on the chain around my neck. It reminds me of who I am and the great unconditional love she has for me.
Anyway, I know you’re planning on becoming an engineer. But if you ever want a second career, you’re a natural born writer ...
12:59 p.m. — Son: “Thanks, Dad and thanks for talking to me this morning.”
1:00 p.m. — Dad: “You’re welcome. We got this.”
Email: Author@johnwfountain.com
Send letters to letters@suntimes.com.
