My grandma thinks I’m her sister, and honestly, I just play along. It’s a little strange at first, but it’s also kind of sweet. She gets confused sometimes, mixing up memories and people, and instead of correcting her, I let her believe what makes her happy. When she calls me by my aunt’s name or talks about things we supposedly did together as kids, I smile and nod.
It’s not about pretending to be someone else; it’s about sharing a moment with her. In those moments, I’m not just her grandchild—I’m her companion, her peer, someone she can relate to. It feels like stepping into a different world where the usual rules don’t apply, and that’s okay. I’ve learned that this kind of play helps her feel less alone and more connected.
Sometimes, I catch her looking at me with a sparkle in her eye, like she’s remembering something joyful from long ago. Other times, she might get frustrated or sad, but I stay patient. I know that her mind is wandering through a maze of memories, and I’m there to guide her gently. It’s a quiet way of showing love without words.
Playing along also teaches me a lot about empathy. I see how much she values companionship and how important it is for her to feel understood. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best thing we can do for someone we love is to meet them where they are, even if it means bending reality a little.
In the end, it’s less about who I really am and more about the comfort and joy we share in those moments. Being her “sister” is just another way of being close, and that’s what matters most.
