Rant #1,603: The Rhinestone Cowboy Comes Home

The family of singer Glen Campbell announced early this week that they have brought the entertainer back home from the facility he was in, basically so he can live out his last days there.

Campbell has stage 7 Alzheimer's Disease, so they have basically brought him home to die.

Sad? Yes, very very sad.

It depresses me, and I was only a fan of this all-around musician and entertainer.

I can only imagine how hard it is on his family to see him this way, and to care for him as he nears the end.

Twenty some odd years ago, my family went through something very similar with my grandmother, my father's mother.

During that era, very little was known about this dreaded disease, the real-life "Walking Dead" that is way more chilling than any TV series or movie can be.

My grandmother was proceeding through this type of dementia at a slow rate, but it picked up as she got older.

I remember that at my wedding, she looked like she had no idea where she was, and I will bet you that she didn't.

I worked near my grandparents at that time, in Flushing, Queens, and my grandfather would call me at work at times, telling me to come over and help him out with her, even if it was only to throw out papers and papers, and other junk that she refused to get rid of.

He would give me bags of garbage, to throw out behind her back.

Things got really bad, my grandfather was also living his last days himself--he was still sharp as a tack through the end of his life--and my grandmother had to be put in a facility.

The last time I saw her was a terrible, terrible episode.

I went to the facility with my father and my son, who was just a few months old.

We asked the attendant to bring her out to us, and she was there, wearing some type of T-shirt that my grandmother, in her sane years, would never wear.

She said to me, "Hi, Larry, what are you doing here," which I was happy to hear, but then she said, "Who is that man with you, and what about that baby?"

The man was my father, her first born child, and she had no idea who he was.

That baby was her great grandson, a little kid that just a few months earlier, she rocked to sleep in her own arms and hands.

We talked for a little bit, but we found that she was pretty unresponsive to whatever questions we asked.

After a few minutes, the attendant took her back, and the three of us left the facility,.

Upon exiting, my father said to me the most chilling words I ever heard him say: "If I ever get that way, I give you permission to go out and get a gun and shoot me."

Of course, I would never do that, but all these years later, I cannot forget that chilling day, the last time I ever saw my grandmother.

A woman who had a smile that could light up a room was gone, even though she hadn't died yet.

She did pass away shortly afterwards, and let me tell you, it was a mitzvah, a blessing. Nobody should have to live like that.

And Campbell will give his last goodbyes at home. I only wish my grandmother could have done that.

I know I have spoken about this a lot, but Alzheimer's eats away at people, and it doesn't discriminate. My parents actually have friends who have gotten the disease, and they come from all walks of life.

My grandmother was basically a housewife, rearing four very successful children and having many grandchildren and great grandchildren. To see her go down like that was horrible, and I am sure Campbell's family is suffering right now, but at least he is home.

If you have not seen the film "I'll Be Me," about Campbell's last days as a somewhat cognizant person spiraling into Alzheimer's, by all means see this film. It is on Netflix.

It is stirring, made me remember my grandmother and how she was at the end, and quite frankly, I could not watch the whole thing through in one sitting. I split it up into two, watching half one time and the other half a few days later.

It also made me watch for things in my own family. My parents are getting on in years, and while I do believe my mother is OK--she is as vibrant as someone a fraction of her age--my father is kind of slowing down a bit. He still works, but his memory is not what it once was, and he can't hear very well, but he is far, far away from anything I saw in my grandmother all those years ago.

Thank God for that, but I still watch.

And I guess it haunts me, too, and I watch myself also.

Hopefully, there will one day be a cure for this dreaded disease, and much more is now known about it than they knew way back when.

But right now, as Campbell and thousands of others live out their final days, you have to wonder why they have been cursed like they have.

I have no answer to that question, nor does anyone else.