Take my Patty by Allison Hayes

Love Remains, Even When Memory Fades

Some stories find you before you know you're ready to tell them.

This one started with my grandmother — with card games on the davenport, juice from the icebox, and afternoon walks where she never once left without her purse. Those small, steady rituals were the heartbeat of our time together. They were her. And then, slowly, they began to fade.

My grandmother, Marie Werner, had Alzheimer's. Like so many families, we found ourselves navigating something enormous with nothing but love to guide us. I watched her memory slip, and I watched something else hold on. Even as so much was lost, whenever I walked into a room and found her eyes — there was a spark. A flicker of recognition that told me she was still in there, still reaching for me across the distance the disease had put between us.

She'd tell me stories from her younger days — nights out dancing with friends, meeting handsome sailors down by the river, her eyes lit up and lively in a way that made the years disappear. I have a photograph of her in her early twenties, dressed up and radiant, ready for a night on the town. I love that picture. It reminds me of who she was when the world was wide open.

And then there's my other favorite: the two of us on a dance floor at my cousin's wedding. I was around eighteen. Grandma was in her late eighties. Her memory was gone — but she still had the moves. She was absolutely thrilled to be out there, and I was thrilled right alongside her, because I got to see that spark again. (There were no sailors at the wedding, unfortunately.)

It was out of all of that — the spark, the stories, the love that outlasted the memory — that this book was born. I wanted to create something gentle enough for a child to hold, and honest enough for a grieving family to lean on. A quiet way to say: the love doesn't leave, even when the memory does.

This book is dedicated to Grandma Marie. Her love never faded, even when her memory did. And it's for every family walking this road — may you find your own spark, again and again.

— Alison Haye

 Grandma Marie is in her early 20s, dressed up for a night of dancing. When Grandma started to slip, she’d tell me stories of her fun nights out, dancing with her friends and meeting handsome sailors down by the river. Her eyes lit up as she recalled her fun memories.

I'm dancing with my grandma at my cousin’s wedding. I was around eighteen and Grandma was in her late 80’s. Her memory was gone, but she still had the moves! She was thrilled to be out on the dance floor, and I delighted in dancing with her because I got to see that spark in her eyes. Unfortunately, there were no sailors at the wedding.