In  2006 my Oma and Opa happily celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary  and here is where my Opa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease or more  commonly known as dementia after not believing that is was there 50th  wedding anniversary, after putting his dinner in the cupboard and beer's  in the dishwasher. The following story was written by my cousin Kate  and myself after realising that something wasn't right to the once, most  loving, kind and gentle man anyone could have ever known. 
He   sat at the table outside, looking out at the pool and rolling his   tobacco. The sun was shining, the birds were twittering, it was a   beautiful day. Yet something was bothering him. His wife had asked him   to do something, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember.   Frustration took over. It was easier not thinking about the present, the   past was where the memories were. But try as he might, he couldn’t   escape the present completely and while so many blissful moments faded   away, moments that could have made everything seem not so bad, it was   the unpleasant moments that remained, those that were clouded with his   thoughts of paranoia and suspicion. When his wife talked on the phone,   why did she speak so softly? When things went missing from where he had   left them. Who would have moved them? When he wasn’t allowed to leave   the house, why wouldn’t his wife give him the keys to the car? But most   of all was the fear, because he was still aware enough to know that his   mind was slipping and that this was hurting all those he loved most. 
The phone rang inside and he got up to answer it. “Hello… hello…” No answer. He hung up.
“Who was it Hans?” His wife came in to the room.
“There   was no one.” He stared at the phone confused. It rang again. This time   his wife answered. Hans watched as his wife began speaking to the   phantom caller. “It’s Lin, Hans.” His wife told him when she saw his   doubtful look.
“Who?”
“Lin…   your daughter.” His wife sighed and went to sit in the other room away   from him. Suspicion washed over him as he hurried into his office to   listen to their conversation on the other phone. He was only able to   hear half of what they were saying but it was enough for him to   understand. His wife was complaining about him and together they were   plotting against him, trying to send him away. He sat there for another   10 minutes before he realised they had hung up. 
“Hans!”  his wife called.  “It’s time to go.” It was happening. They were  sending him away now. He  wouldn’t go. But even as he thought this he  knew it was useless. He had  no power over what happened to him anymore.  His wife walked into the  room with a smile that he automatically  distrusted. She was happy that  he was going away. 
“The bus is here, Hans.”
“Bus   to where?” Maybe there was still a way out of it. His wife sighed   again. They went through the same thing every week. “The bus for your   Alzheimer’s group.”
As   they pulled up to the island Hans had one of his rare moments of   clarity. This was the island he had taken his grandchildren to when they   were younger and which they had nicknamed ‘Opa’s Island’. He  remembered  a day, a couple of years ago, where him and his wife and  four  grandchildren had hired a boat and gone fishing around the island.  It  was around the same time that he had been diagnosed with Alzheimer   disease. He heard someone say that they had arrived at McArthur Island.   “No.” He contradicted them. “This is Opa’s Island.”
Four   months later, Hans kicked his toe on something as he walked into his   lounge room. Except... where was the lounge...? the TV...? the coffee   table…? There were just a few boxes. He glanced outside and saw a group   of people sitting around the table conversing in low whispers. As he   opened the sliding door their voices abruptly stopped and their eyes   turned to him, staring. “Are you ready to go, dad?” One of them asked.   This was it. They had come to take him away. He took a step back running   into the door. “NO! I’m not going. You can’t make me go!” He yelled at   them. He tried to get away but hands grabbed him, holding him back.  They  were trying to calm him, make him come quietly. He started to  struggle  but then froze. 
In   his moment of lucidity he looked around at them all, at each and every   face and for the first time saw them. They were not strangers. He saw   his two daughters and their husbands, he saw his grandchildren and   finally he saw his wife. This was his family. A memory of his 65th   birthday came to the forefront of his thoughts in that moment, of him   arriving home from his motorbike joy ride to his family waving and   smiling and cheering him. They were not trying to get rid of him, they   were helping him. They were not putting him away but were taking care of   him. And his wife, his beautiful wife, was not deserting him but   joining him, taking the next step of their life together. It didn’t   matter that they were going to a retirement village or that he may not   even remember this moment tomorrow. Hans Vanderwel belonged in the   heart of each and every person in his family. For now he was content.
Sadly  on Monday, the 7th of December 2009, we had to say good-bye to not only  an Opa, a father, a brother, a son, a friend or a captain but to a man  loved by so many people. Even though he's gone I believe all those  memories not only I have but also my sister, brother and cousin have of  my Opa taking us to the super bee, ginger factory, and Opa's Island will  remain in our hearts and minds forever and ever. 
Rest In Peace Opa, 
We miss you.
 07.12.2009 <3