Challenges Of Love
My grandmother Antonietta degenerated rapidly after my grandfather, her husband of sixty years, passed away.
My grandmother lived in my childhood bedroom for several years. These last years were really hard for her and my family as she depended completely on their care.
By the end there was little left of my grandmother.
This project was born from wanting to show the truth of what Alzheimer's is and entails, in the hope that at the very least, this memory will not get lost.
On August 31, 2022, the disease took my grandmother.
I documented what was happening to help my parents understand and remember how important they were for my grandmother and to appreciate how much they did to help her. Over time, I convinced myself that I should share the story to help raise awareness and give support and light to this devastating disease and its effects on the family. The
photographs allow the viewer into my parents' home, and I respectfully used a familiar visual approach to create some sense of comfort.
In the photographs, my grandmother's progressive illness is depicted in her gaze, an absence. In the portrait of her in bed, her position at the very bottom of the frame suggests the disappearance of memories and identity.
We all knew that the disease would eventually take over, but it was a fight until the very end. This is a story of the challenges in love, and in hope, to create a memory for our family by praising the strength of my parents; to ensure that all this is remembered.
Dear mom,
I look at you and you are always as beautiful as you used to be,
even if you now weigh 40kg.
Your dull and dreary eyes betray your pain.
Day by day you fade away, and I can’t do anything more than what I do.
You are apathetic, you are only physically present, and I cannot fight this disease,
I can only accept it.
What infinite sadness, it’s all too unfair.
The journey is long and difficult, days marked only from drug therapies,
but the most absurd thing is that you can’t even recognize “your daughter”,
the only one you have.
I hope that one day, perhaps, we will be able to give due weight to the devastation
that this disease causes to those who suffer from it, and to those around it.
I hope, one day, a cure for this disease will be found.
In the meantime, I’m next to you, but I see you leaving,
if you haven’t already left.
I miss you.
your daughter,
Luciana
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Cara mamma,
Ti guardo e sei sempre bella come una volta,
anche se ora pesi 40 kg.
I tuoi occhi spenti e tetri tradiscono il tuo dolore.
Giorno dopo giorno svanisci e io non posso fare niente di più di quello che faccio.
Sei apatica, sei presente solo fisicamente e non posso combattere questa malattia,
posso solo accettarla.
Che tristezza infinita, è tutto troppo ingiusto.
Il percorso è lungo e difficile, giorni segnati solo dalle terapie farmacologiche,
ma la cosa più assurda è che non puoi nemmeno riconoscere “tua figlia”,
l’unica che hai.
Spero che un giorno, forse, potremo dare il giusto peso alla devastazione
che questa malattia provoca a coloro che ne soffrono e a coloro intorno.
Spero che un giorno si trovi una cura per questa malattia.
Intanto ti sono accanto, ma ti vedo andare via,
sempre se non te ne sei già andata.
Mi manchi.
tua figlia,
Luciana
