Dementia, Madness, Genius, Love ...

Big round eyes, slightly protruding, with a milky film, staring, unblinking, seeing something far away, or perhaps not seeing anything at all, or perhaps seeing only memories, scene after scene playing behind the blurred lens.

Small beady eyes, bright, clear, intelligent, darting everywhere and but not looking at you, blinking furiously sometimes, unsettling, uncomfortable.

The perfect eyes of pools of darkness set against the smooth white balls. Deep, dark, full of secrets, cool, calculative, a trap to capture your gaze and set your guard down. Beautiful eyes, something which you look at forever and ever, spiraling downwards into them, yet unseeing, yet uncaring.

Eyes with warmth and sincerity, laughter and humour winking in the depth of the pupils, holding you safe and secure, eyes which shone with love, with pride, eyes which tell you the truth, hiding nothing, encompassing everything. My love.

Eyes of all shapes and sizes. Humans with their oval round eyes, single or double eyelids, strong gaze, fugitive glances; elves with their almond shape eyes, single eyelids, staring, intelligent, haunting; dwarfs with their mistrustful eyes, deep beneath their sockets, hiding behind long shaggy brows, firm yet uncertain, undecided; hobbits with their happy eyes, bright, innocent, full of joy and laughter. Eyes are the mirrors of their souls. Have you ever looked into a person's eyes and wonder what the person is like? Can you have an inkling of what goes on in the thoughts of a person when you look into the eyes? Do the eyes show madness, or truth? Are the eyes telling you something when a shadow falls upon them? Eyes can be sparkling clear, and sometimes they can become opaque. Eyes can look dull, and sometimes they glisten with tears. Look into the eyes and wonder. Look into the eyes and perhaps you can read their minds and see their heart or perhaps nothing at all.

You can tell a lot of a person when you look into the eyes. There could be an instinctive trust or a shuddering dislike. Perhaps a unconscious liking, or disgust. Or perhaps pity, sadness, joy ... emotions fleetingly fly past you and you are left with a sense of something towards the person. Subconsciously, you know, yet unable to put into words.

*****

I wish my Grandma is well. She is with us physically, but her mind is lost somewhere, untouchable, unreachable. Before she is a gentle lady, vibrant and caring and hardworking. She'll tell me stories and cheer me up after a day at work. But slowly she deteriorates, and withdraws into herself. Yet not too bad as she is willing to be brought out of her shell. I could always get along with her, and we enjoyed our conversations very much. I missed my Grandma in that way. Now, all is left is her physical being, no spirit, no strength, no person.

Before when she came to stay with us, there were already hints that her mind is failing. Sometimes she'll see or hear things only visible to herself. Perhaps many years of memories play in her mind and she sees and hears them and wishes she were back then. She'll talk to the ghosts in her past, holding a perfectly ordinary conversation on a perfectly ordinary day with someone you can only perhaps see with her eyes. Once, she kept asking me why the little boy is crying, she was rather distressed that he couldn't stop. Only there were Grandma and I alone in my room, on a rather dark and quiet night. Spooked me out, rather. Other times she'll become all quiet and introspective, and when I approached her, she'll whisper at me to shush, she wanted to hear the singing. It still wasn't too bad, since she could recognise where she is and who she is. Yet now her mind is totally locked somewhere and she does not even know who we are. She will just be quietly sitting by a corner, staring but not seeing, hearing nothing, doing nothing. Is she still dreaming of her past or has her mind become completely blank? Is there a soul trapped in the frail body wishing to be released or is there no such thing as a soul at all? Does she still understand where she is and who she is? Does she still know that we all still love her and that she is being well taken care of? Can her life be anymore meaningful without the mind to command the will?

My mom sacrifices her freedom to take care of my grandma. She doesn't give up nor does she get unhappy. Grandma has always been nicest to us, she says. My mom, I think, is the greatest person in the whole world. Her brothers who took the money, only boys get them, see, and some never even come to visit Grandma. Her sisters visit and only make my mom more busy. Sometimes I can't help feeling angry with how unfair it all is. When my mom fired the maid, the hypocrite among them came calling to ask my mom how she is coping, but only wanting to get the maid's contacts. They don't care, do they? I only wish that my Grandma knows in her heart that she is being taken care of by my mom. I only wish that my Grandma is mentally all right so she can be with us not just physically but here, in the sense. The last time we could still celebrate her birthday with her with a simple cake and feel the joy to see her smile. Today, there is nothing. Emptiness. Eyes opaque, staring, unblinking, unseeing.

sigh...