Grandmother (tell me about the good old days)

When I was a little girl, I thought my grandmother was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was absolutely perfect to me. One of my favorite things to do with her when I was little was to look at family photos. I also would love it when I got to look at her jewelry box. It was fascinating, and helped encourage my love of accessories. As I grew older, I became cogniscent that my life and family were very different from others-not necessarily bad; just different. She had her reasons why things were the way they were. During the last year of her life, I had the honor and privilege of being her primary caregiver. It was hard to see her decline so much healthwise, and dementia was setting in. She was forgetful, and increasingly childlike as time wore on. We developed a different relationship towards the end of her life, and I think she was finally able to appreciate me for me, and not wanting me to change all the time.