Losing my grandfather to dementia during the pandemic

Losing my grandfather to dementia during the pandemic

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These photographs, taken by photographer Marzio Toniolo, document the final months with his grandfather during Italy's coronavirus lockdown.

Each time he went to a funeral, Gino Verani came away with a "santino," the traditional laminated card with a picture of the deceased on the front and a prayer on the back.

Over the years he would slip them into two small cardboard boxes in a drawer in the living room of his house in San Fiorano - a town in northern Italy that was at the epicenter of the country's coronavirus pandemic - along with his watch, an outdated cellphone and his keys.

. Italy. Reuters/MarzioToniolo
Gino observes his collection of “santini.”

By the time Verani died on Sept. 6 at the age of 88, he had collected nearly 150 "santini," so-called because they are similar to cards bearing images of Roman Catholic saints.

Those cards depicting friends, and sometimes children of friends, became part of the many games his family devised to keep Verani's mind active against encroaching dementia during the national lockdown.

"I would occasionally lay them all out on a table and ask him to identify the pictures," said his grandson Marzio Toniolo, 35, an elementary school teacher in the same town.

"He remembered many of them, more than he remembered what he did a while ago," he said.

. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Bianca holds hands with her great-grandfather in a rare moment of tenderness, as they watch the news. Marzio said that although both Gino and Bianca loved each other very much, Gino struggled to respect the rules on social distancing which sometimes irritated Bianca, but, it was also just as difficult to make her understand her great-grandfather's difficulties.

At one point during the three-month lockdown from March to May, four generations of the Verani-Toniolo family were living under the same roof, ranging from Toniolo's three-year-old daughter Bianca to Verani, her great-grandfather.

. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Gino and his wife Ines Prandini, 85, practice social distancing as they chat to their friends Gianni and his partner Anna, while Bianca plays in overgrown grass nearby.

Games were necessary because only short walks were permitted within 200 meters (yards) of the house.

Wearing a mask and wool hat, Verani would often stop to stare listlessly at a bulletin board where death notices were posted, a tradition that continues in Italy's smaller cities and towns.

. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Marzio said this was one of the last times Verani was able to shave independently. Two months later, he was no longer able to do so, so a barber came to the house weekly to cut his beard and hair.

"After all of the restrictions were lifted (on June 3), he felt totally liberated. His mood improved and his body showed it for a while too," Toniolo said.

. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Left: Gino lies in a bed set up in the living room of his home.
Right: Blood from when Gino had fallen down the stairs is caught on Ines’ cardigan when she had tried to help him up. Marzio said that fortunately, Gino had gotten away with only a few small bruises from the fall.

But during the summer Verani fell twice. He no longer could manage the stairs so the family, including his wife Ines, 85, Toniolo's wife Chiara, 32, and his mother, set up an area on the ground floor where Verani could sleep in a single bed.

. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Gino and Ines sleep at home on the 16th day of quarantine. Marzio had not entered his grandparent's room since he was a child, when, during the summer holidays, he would once sleep among them at night. Each morning, during the period of the first red zone, he would listen out for noise coming from their bedroom to reassure himself that everything was okay.

He had slept beside Ines their entire married life of 63 years. He was restless in the single bed. When he did sleep, it was badly. When family members cleaned him, he complained of pain.

. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Ines records a video on a mobile phone for Gino. Marzio said that the facility where Gino was taken, allowed family members to make video calls with a helper at the care home who would hold up an iPad. However, in Gino’s room, the internet did not work, so his family had to resort to video messages. Marzio said that the emotion and the certainty that his grandfather would not be able to understand, made this operation of making the video messages, disappointing.

The family decided to move Verani to a care home in a nearby town so professionals could look after him, and Ines reluctantly agreed. Because of a two-week quarantine rule, they realised they might not see him alive again.

"From that moment, my grandmother closed up inside herself, oppressed by feelings of guilt because, as she put it, 'we sent him off to die far from home'," Toniolo said.

. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Ines looks at Gino’s body before going to sleep and spending the last night with him under the same roof, at their home.

Verani died a week later of natural causes and his body was brought home. He was dressed in his best suit and put in a coffin flanked by two large candles for a 24-hour wake in the living room, a tradition in a country where funeral homes are not commonly used.

. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo
Gianni, Verani's friend, stands, after accidentally sitting on the chair that Verani used to always use during church services, during Gino Verani's funeral.

Almost the whole town turned out to see him. Each person received a "santino" with Verani's picture on it. Toniolo added one to the boxes in the living room drawer, retiring his grandfather's collection forever.

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Slideshow

Gino and Ines link arms at home. Marzio said that this was a particularly concerning time due to the occurrence of the first Covid-19 related deaths in the area.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Gino and Ines link arms at home. Marzio said that this was a particularly concerning time due to the occurrence of the first Covid-19 related deaths in the area.

Marzio said that Gino would often look outside the window to browse. That window represented his only escape route in moments when he could not get out, first due to the lockdown and then due to the worsening condition of his health.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Marzio said that Gino would often look outside the window to browse. That window represented his only escape route in moments when he could not get out, first due to the lockdown and then due to the worsening condition of his health.

The Toniolo family make a toast, clinking their glasses at home after cooking homemade ravioli to celebrate the apparent return to normal during the first red zone. There had been no deaths at the time.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

The Toniolo family make a toast, clinking their glasses at home after cooking homemade ravioli to celebrate the apparent return to normal during the first red zone. There had been no deaths at the time.

Due to San Fiorano being on lockdown, it has caused Gino, who suffered from senile dementia, additional confusion. To try and help distract him, his family gave him a pen and paper to draw his thoughts. After he drew the aeroplane, he asked his grandson Marzio: "do you have the keys to the plane?"
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Due to San Fiorano being on lockdown, it has caused Gino, who suffered from senile dementia, additional confusion. To try and help distract him, his family gave him a pen and paper to draw his thoughts. After he drew the aeroplane, he asked his grandson Marzio: "do you have the keys to the plane?"

Marzio said that when Gino was in a good mood, he would often greet Marzio and Bianca with a song or a smile, especially to amuse Bianca.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Marzio said that when Gino was in a good mood, he would often greet Marzio and Bianca with a song or a smile, especially to amuse Bianca.

Marzio said that often, in moments of despair, Gino would ask Ines to sit next to him.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Marzio said that often, in moments of despair, Gino would ask Ines to sit next to him.

Marzio said the picture of Ines tying Gino’s shoe laces, was quite symbolic of what Ines was for Gino in recent years: constant and total support.
. Italy. Reuters/MarzioToniolo

Marzio said the picture of Ines tying Gino’s shoe laces, was quite symbolic of what Ines was for Gino in recent years: constant and total support.

Ines helps Gino get ready for bed.
. Italy. Reuters/MarzioToniolo

Ines helps Gino get ready for bed.

Marzio said that in moments of particular tiredness, Gino would ask  his wife to go to bed very early in the evening. This, however, created temporal imbalances in him and sent him into total confusion. So Marzio’s grandmother did everything to keep him awake and he, in his own way, reacted by pretending to be desperate.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Marzio said that in moments of particular tiredness, Gino would ask his wife to go to bed very early in the evening. This, however, created temporal imbalances in him and sent him into total confusion. So Marzio’s grandmother did everything to keep him awake and he, in his own way, reacted by pretending to be desperate.

Ines helps bathe Gino.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Ines helps bathe Gino.

Graziano Verani, a volunteer for the Civil Protection of San Fiorano, gives flowers to his parents Ines and Gino.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Graziano Verani, a volunteer for the Civil Protection of San Fiorano, gives flowers to his parents Ines and Gino.

Gino makes a sarcastic gesture to bad luck, as he rests his arm which was treated, after he fell down a flight of stairs at his home.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Gino makes a sarcastic gesture to bad luck, as he rests his arm which was treated, after he fell down a flight of stairs at his home.

Gino is comforted by Ines at their home. Marzio said that in what became rare moments of lucidity, Gino would ask for Ines’ hand.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Gino is comforted by Ines at their home. Marzio said that in what became rare moments of lucidity, Gino would ask for Ines’ hand.

Bed where Gino and Ines slept, lies empty on the first day that Gino was taken to a care home. When a bed was set up for Gino on the ground floor of their home, Ines started to sleep on a sofa next to the husband's bed.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Bed where Gino and Ines slept, lies empty on the first day that Gino was taken to a care home. When a bed was set up for Gino on the ground floor of their home, Ines started to sleep on a sofa next to the husband's bed.

Ines sits in front of a sewing machine. Marzio said that Ines closed herself in a shell of sadness and melancholy, when she was not able to see Gino for two weeks and was convinced that sooner or later she would be able to bring him home. Her wish, he said, was that Gino could die at home, however, he said it was unthinkable to be able to manage a patient in those conditions in a home and without adequate assistance.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Ines sits in front of a sewing machine. Marzio said that Ines closed herself in a shell of sadness and melancholy, when she was not able to see Gino for two weeks and was convinced that sooner or later she would be able to bring him home. Her wish, he said, was that Gino could die at home, however, he said it was unthinkable to be able to manage a patient in those conditions in a home and without adequate assistance.

Ines looks Gino’s photographs, in a moment of melancholy.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Ines looks Gino’s photographs, in a moment of melancholy.

A photograph of Ines and Gino taken in 1957, the year that they got married, hangs in their home.
. San Fiorano, Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

A photograph of Ines and Gino taken in 1957, the year that they got married, hangs in their home.

Bianca looks at a picture that she drew of Gino. The picture was later placed inside Gino’s jacket that he was buried in.
. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Bianca looks at a picture that she drew of Gino. The picture was later placed inside Gino’s jacket that he was buried in.

Visitors sit around the coffin holding Gino during his wake at his home. Many relatives and friends of Gino came to visit him during his wake which continued throughout the evening.
. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Visitors sit around the coffin holding Gino during his wake at his home. Many relatives and friends of Gino came to visit him during his wake which continued throughout the evening.

Francesca, 61, Gino’s daughter, sleeps on a sofa next to her father's body, the night before his funeral.
. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

Francesca, 61, Gino’s daughter, sleeps on a sofa next to her father's body, the night before his funeral.

A funeral director stands in front of the coffin holding Gino before making his way to the church for his funeral service.
. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

A funeral director stands in front of the coffin holding Gino before making his way to the church for his funeral service.

The nursing home, where Gino spent the last week of his life before he died. Due to the regulations put in place to prevent the spread of COVID-19, and Gino having to quarantine for two weeks when he arrived, his family were not able to ever visit him during the time that he spent there, up until when he died.
. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

The nursing home, where Gino spent the last week of his life before he died. Due to the regulations put in place to prevent the spread of COVID-19, and Gino having to quarantine for two weeks when he arrived, his family were not able to ever visit him during the time that he spent there, up until when he died.

More than a week after Gino’s death, his funeral poster was still hanging from the bulletin.
. Italy. Reuters/Marzio Toniolo

More than a week after Gino’s death, his funeral poster was still hanging from the bulletin.