For a few seconds she saw me, heard me; for a fleeting moment her memory let her remember that she knew me. Then she was gone again, back to that terrifying confused world where she understood nothing and knew no-one, not even herself.

My heart broke with longing to speak with my real grand-ma, not this garbling child-like creature which had taken over her mind. But she was not there any more, not really; there was no bringing her back either. The alzheimers had taken her memory, her knowlegde, her personality, her life. Piece by piece, day by day we lost her.

I am suffering the heart-break of a grand-daughter. My mother on the other hand, has essentially lost her mum. I cannot imagine her heartbreak, her sense of loss. She has accepted nan is no longer the woman she was and that she does not even recognise her own daughter any more.

So we wait now, as her breath becomes more laboured and her will to live weakens by the moment. We wait as her tiny form gives up and refuses even to drink or eat. We know there will be a call for us soon and so we wait because that is all we can do.