Who was Maria Arteaga before the devastating effects of Alzheimer’s? Maria Arteaga is our rock, our family’s foundation. The matriarch of 5 children and 14 grandchildren. Maria was born and raised on a small ranch in Zacatecas, Mexico, and transitioned her life to the United States after marrying her husband, Mauro Arteaga. Maria was widowed in 1986 and dedicated her life to making sure her family had better and more opportunities than she had growing up. This dedication and sacrifice continued when Maria’s children had children and offered to be her grandchildren’s caretaker. Maria is my grandmother; or who I refer to as “Mom” because she was just far too fashionable and young to be referred to as “abuela” (grandmother). I grew up living across the street from Mom and spent my entire childhood with her. Summer camp was Mom’s house. After school childcare was Mom’s house. Dinner Monday-Friday was, and continues to be, at Mom’s house. Mom is the woman who raised me and instilled the values and qualities I exhibit today. My favorite memories, that I hold dear to my heart, are of summers with Mom. I distinctly remember bright summer mornings, 7 a.m. crossing the street with my sisters, eagerly awaiting the arrival of our cousins. Pancakes and milk for breakfast, waiting in line to get our hair braided, filling our day with adventures at the thrift store and local library. Once we returned, Mom would immediately start preparing dinner for 14 people because her favorite part of the day was providing dinner for her children and grandchildren. The tradition of family dinners at Mom’s continues despite her diagnosis, the difference now is that we are the ones that prepare and serve. I, her grandchild at the age of 25, am now attending to any and all needs that Mom may need. Mom’s primary care team consists of 7 women— her 2 daughters and 5 grandchildren, including myself. Every single day we women rotate time blocks throughout the day to be with Mom and conduct activities such as painting, listening to iconic Mexican artists, watching telenovelas, reading books in Spanish, and going on walks in our neighborhood. Personally, my favorite thing to do with Mom during my shift is going through her multiple closets and admiring her collection of jewelry and clothes curated from thrift stores. Mom’s style is like no other, so unique and bold. I certainly am the grandchild that is notorious for “borrowing” her clothes and adding them to my personal closet. For instance, her 90’s L.L. Bean baby-blue coat with brown corduroy cuffs and collar. I mean rightfully so! I can’t begin to explain the sentiment that Mom’s clothing holds, it’s the one part of her that remains the same despite her diagnosis. Her clothing links her to a time when she was still herself and I treasure those memories endlessly. The magic of her clothing is the revival of memories. Although her past may be forgotten to her, a piece of her is still linked to her clothing. Of the 4 years I have been Mom’s caretaker, I can say without a doubt that her memory is the sharpest when it comes to her clothing and jewelry. I will step inside Mom’s house wearing a piece of clothing that I found tucked in the back of her closet for YEARS and before greeting me with a usual warm embrace and kiss on the cheek, Mom will sarcastically ask me, “Oh and where did you get that shirt/jacket?” She gives me a look, insinuating she knows exactly where that specific piece of clothing was picked from and who it belongs to.