I've been here less than ten minutes and I already feel exhausted. Like every Sunday morning, my dad, mom, younger sister Kasey, and I get into our old black Chevy energized from breakfast to make the trip to Appleton. While we're there, let's go visit my grandmother. When I stand, her curly white hair just grazes the tops of my shoulders. Today she is neatly dressed, with her usual pastel sweater and painted nails. Despite the fact that we love her unconditionally, and as terrible as it is to say it, it is mentally and emotionally exhausting to visit her lately. "And now, which one are you?" My grandmother asks curiously as she nods towards me. “This is your granddaughter, Karley,” my father reminds her. “How was breakfast, Mom?” “Breakfast was fine,” he replies calmly. “Dad went fishing.” When my grandmother refers to “father” she means my grandfather, she always calls him that. These visits wouldn't be so exhausting if my grandfather just fished. My grandmother raised four faithful, kind, hard-working children. She faced and defeated breast cancer. For more than sixty years, my grandmother and grandfather remained lovingly married. He went to church every Sunday and offered his endless support to all who needed it, especially his family. About a year ago, my grandmother was relaxing in the Appleton retirement community completing puzzles, chatting with friends and watching Wheel of Fortune. Yes, my grandmother was aging as human nature demands. However, she was in relatively good health despite the fact that she enjoyed a few more McDonald's milkshakes than a doctor would have recommended. Unexpectedly, my grandmother had a mild stroke. When all of us visited her after the first stroke, she was still in good condition… halfway… aged. My dad would even joke with her that it was my birthday when it wasn't just to keep her on her toes or something. She knew when he was teasing her, and now she has no idea unless it's a nice day. Perhaps even sadder than seeing my late grandfather is the fact that sometimes he knows he is going crazy. On really bad days, he asks us why he's still here living like this. Being his granddaughter, the situation is difficult enough; However, I cannot imagine how bizarre and painful it is for my father and his brothers to watch my grandmother's mind manipulate and betray her. Dementia is cruel and difficult to understand. I wouldn't wish this disease on anyone. On the bright side, loving someone with dementia has taught me a valuable lesson. Always do everything you can to be there for those you love, even if it's just fishing.