Troy Meadows is 16. Like his mom, Leeza, he is the middle child between Lexi, 18 and Nathan 10. ---------- Walking into the room in the Alzheimer’s hospital and seeing my grandma lying there with a dazed look on her face, as though she’s focusing on nothing, is the most heartbreaking thing that you can experience at such a young age. The earliest I can remember seeing JG in her bed at the hospital is probably around 10. I never did have a good long-term memory. When I first saw her there, I didn’t quite understand it. She was there, I saw her, I knew she was in the room, but I didn’t completely get why she didn’t acknowledge the people coming into the room or even anything at all. She just looked at the same spot nearly the whole time we were in the room. She said nothing, moved every so often but not much, and just stared into the distance. I wanted to talk to her, ask her how she was doing, how things were, all of that stuff. But I couldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to respond. She wouldn’t be able to understand me. Nothing. I look over at my mom and she’s kneeling next to her mom, crying, talking to her. I wanted some way to fix it, some way that I could help, but I couldn’t do anything. We talked with her for a bit, she still didn’t speak. My mom was talking about back home and how things were and how we were all doing. She then mentioned Nathan and me, who were both in the room at the time. Suddenly, a sort of awareness came into her eyes and facial expression. She spoke, “My sweet boys.” At that moment I sort of just stared in amazement. My mom looked at me, then Nathan, back at me, then at her mom. She began to cry and said, “Yes mom, your sweet boys.” I realized after that, that nothing could take JG away from us. The whole time I thought she wasn’t there, wasn’t listening, wasn’t even present in the room, when really, she was there the whole time. This illness cannot take Jean Gibbons away from this earth. The entire time she was there, listening to us, understanding us. She knew who we were, why we were there. I began to cry. At just 10 years old I learned a lesson that has not left me ever since and never will. The presence of a person is not their physical being, it’s their energy, their soul, their inner being. No matter what happens to them, whether they lose their memory or lose their life, they really didn’t lose anything. As long as they have touched the hearts of their loved ones, and people on this earth still care for them and love them, they will never leave. JG is here with us right now, and so is every other person with this disease. If it feels like they’re gone, just listen, they’re inside of you, all around you, listening to what you have to say. So speak up and talk to them.