She was my best friend.She was funny,beautiful and incredibly smart.We were friends our entire childhood.Practically attached to the hip.Always together.Until she got sick.
At first no one thought of it.She was like any other 23 year old.We just graduated college at Dartmouth.We lived in an apartment right out of New York,both worked at a magazine company.She was an editor and I was a photographer.Our everyday routine was the same except on the weekends.We woke up at the same time,left the same time and got home at the same time.We partied on the weekends and worked 9-5 shifts together.
I was getting ready for work one day and she was laying on the couch,watching tv.
"Lylla?Did you go to sleep at all?"
She looked lost,but not tired."Sleep?I don't have to sleep.I don't have to get up.I can sit and do nothing all day."
"You have work.Remember?"
She looked at me and blinked a few times."Oh.Yeah,work.Thanks,I forgot."
It got worse.Sometimes she would forget where we lived or how to drive.Her mother didn't worry though.
Her words were exact "Don't worry Myra.I always thought she worked too hard.Maybe her brain needs some time off.I'm sure its nothing."
So I stopped worrying.Until she couldn't eat.I took her to the local doctor and they told me she was showing no signs of anything harmful and she was too young to suffer from alzheimers.But I knew something was wrong.I knew deep,deep down that I might loose her.I tried to help her.She wouldn't talk to me.Our routine was messed up.She was always late.
I thought she hated me.This went on for about a month and then I found the letter under her mattress:
Myra,
I want you to know that I can't remember things right.Dr.Causwell said that I have something called Dementia and somethings wrong with my brain.But I do know this: You are my best friend and I love you or I think I do.I don't want to forget but sometimes I do.Never forget that.
Love, Lylla.
When I was done reading her letter,I placed it back where I found it.Then I googled Dementia.As soon as it popped up,all my questions were answered.Dementia is a loss of brain function. It affects memory, thinking, language, judgment, and behavior.Alzheimers is a form of Dementia.It was going to get a worse and Lylla could die from this.
When she got home she looked different.I tried to help her remember things but she wouldn't listen.
"Lylla,what's my name?"
"Chloe.Wait,no is it Maddison?'
I made a face.Chloe was my sisters name and I hated the name Maddison.She looked at me and then as if someone whispered in her ear,she said"Oh my gosh!Im so sorry Myra.I don't know what happened for a minute." Then she ran to her bedroom,not once looking at me.
Three months later Lylla quit her job and moved out with out telling me.I tried calling her,looking for her.One day,a while after she left,maybe four months later, I saw her on the streets.Her once blonde hair was now black.She was skinny and sick looking.She had a newborn baby girl with her.She had very little blonde hair and green eyes just like Lylla. All I could think was Not hers,she's not her baby. She looked at me once,like she remembered me and I hoped she had.Then she walked away.
And that was the last time I saw her alive.
She was very sick.The doctors told me that her Dementia caused a brain tumor and they caught it too late.If she would have had surgery,she would have died sooner than before.It was a matter of time and there was nothing to do to stop it.She died two days after I saw her.Her memorial service was held at the park we grew up around.She was beautiful.Her hair was now blonde again.Probably from the request of her mother,making them dye it back.She was in a yellow dress,which was her favorite color.Everyone said happy things and talked about memories.I cried the whole time.I was lost and wrecked.I could almost hear her laugh in the wind.Her smile in the sky.I didn't want to speak.I didn't know what to say.
"She....She didn't know it,but she loved all of you."My voice cracked and I walked off the stage.
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Her daughters name Is Myra Lylianne Austin and everyday she remembers her mom and I will not replace Lylla.
"Myra."I call.
"Yes.Auntie?"
"Who loves you?"
"My mommy that's in heaven and she loves you too."
And I remember that everyday.
