KJ Eastwick
Slightly crazy writer and passionate educator for those who struggle
Lillian
My grandmother was an amazing woman who died many years ago. She was my first experience as an adult (and new mother) of dementia and visiting someone in a nursing home. She did not have a clue who I was. On a good day she would call me my father’s name (I favour his side of the family) but she alway, always wanted to hold her great grand son. I am not sure who she thought he was, because my father only had daughters. This is a poem I wrote after the nursing home staff cut her amazing long hair and changed my grandmother into someone else. (She had never had short hair)
Lillian
Interventions
