It was my senior year, and I thought it would be filled with exams, friends, and plans for the future. Instead, I was at home watching my grandmother decline from dementia. She often mistook me for her late husband, George. It drove me crazy—until one day, everything changed.
That day is one I will always remember. My grandmother, Gretchen, was not doing well. She was forgetful, confused, and her health was getting worse.
Mom and I knew something was wrong, but getting Grandma to see a doctor was not easy. She was stubborn and insisted she was fine. However, we finally convinced her to go.
After several tests, the doctor met with us and shared the news: dementia. I remember how Mom’s face fell when he explained that there wasn’t much they could do.
The medication might slow the disease down, but it wouldn’t stop it from getting worse. We had to accept that things were going to change.
That same day, we decided Grandma would move in with us. We couldn’t leave her alone, especially after my grandfather, George, passed away a few years ago. It was the right choice, but it didn’t make things any easier.
That night, I sat at my desk, trying to study for my exams. It was my final year, and I had a lot to handle. Then I heard her crying and whispering to someone.
I got up and walked toward her room, feeling sad. She was talking to Grandpa as if he were right there. It broke my heart to hear her, but there was nothing I could do.
As the months passed, Grandma’s condition got worse. There were days when she didn’t recognize where she was or who we were. Those moments were short but still hurt deeply.
One morning, I came downstairs to find Mom cleaning the kitchen. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept much.
“Did Grandma move everything around again last night?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Mom kept cleaning. “Yes,” she said quietly. “She woke up in the night and said the plates and cups were wrong. I told her nothing had changed, but she didn’t believe me. She kept moving things around, looking for things that weren’t even there.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just patted her back. “It’ll be okay,” I mumbled, even though I wasn’t sure it would be.
Mom shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to worry about this. You have school to focus on. Do you want some breakfast?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’ll eat later.” I picked up an apple from the table to have something in my hand and headed for the door. Mom didn’t say anything as I left.
When I got home, the house was quiet. Mom was still at work. I heard soft footsteps upstairs. Grandma was moving around again. I followed the sound and found her in the kitchen, shifting plates and cups from one cabinet to another.
She turned when she saw me, her eyes lighting up. “George! You’re back!” She rushed toward me with open arms.
I froze, unsure what to do. “No, Grandma. It’s me—Michael, your grandson.”
But she shook her head, not hearing me. “George, what are you talking about? We’re too young to have grandchildren. Someone moved the dishes again. Was it your mother? She always changes everything.”
I stood there, feeling helpless. “Grandma, listen. I’m not George. I’m Michael, your grandson. You’re at our house, mine and your daughter Carol’s.”
Her smile faded, and she looked confused. “George, stop saying these strange things. You’re scaring me. We don’t have a daughter. Remember? You promised to take me on that date by the sea. When can we go?”
I sighed, not knowing how to respond. I couldn’t keep telling her the truth; she didn’t understand. “I… I don’t know, Grandma,” I said softly, then turned and left the kitchen.
When Mom got home, I told her what had happened.
She sat down and smiled sadly. “I understand why she thinks you’re George.”
I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
Mom looked up at me. “You look just like him when he was young. It’s like you’re his twin.”
I was quiet for a moment. “I’ve never seen any pictures of him when he was younger.”
Mom stood up from the couch. “Come with me. I’ll show you.” She walked toward the attic and pulled down the stairs. I followed her up as she searched through a few old boxes. Finally, she handed me an old photo album.
I opened it. The first picture looked worn and faded. The man in it? He looked just like me.
“Is this Grandpa?” I asked, flipping through the pages.
“Yes,” Mom said softly. “See what I mean? You two really do look alike.”
“Too much alike,” I whispered, staring at the pictures.
“You can keep the album if you want,” Mom said.
That night, I sat in my room, flipping through the album again. I couldn’t believe how much I looked like him.
Grandma’s condition got worse every day. She barely spoke, and when she did, it was hard to understand her.
Sometimes she couldn’t even walk without help. Mom had to feed her most days. But no matter what, Grandma always called me “George.”
One afternoon, after she said it again, I snapped. “I’m not George! I’m Michael! Your grandson! Why don’t you understand?”
Mom looked up from where she was sitting. “Michael, she doesn’t understand anymore.”
“I don’t care!” I shouted. “I’m tired of this! I can’t handle it!”
I turned toward the hallway, my anger boiling over.
“Where are you going?” Mom asked, standing up quickly.
“I need to get out of here,” I said, my voice shaking. I grabbed my jacket and slammed the door behind me before Mom could say anything else. I needed space, away from it all. Away from Grandma’s confusion and my own frustration.
Without thinking, I ended up at the cemetery where my grandfather was buried. I walked between the rows of headstones until I found his grave.
Seeing his name on the stone brought a lump to my throat. I sat down on the grass in front of it and let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Why aren’t you here?” I asked, staring at the headstone. “You always knew what to do.”
The silence felt deafening. I sat there for what felt like hours, lost in my thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the times Grandpa had been there for me, for Mom, for Grandma. He had a way of making everything seem simple, no matter how hard life got.
Then, suddenly, a memory hit me. I was about five or six years old, wearing Grandpa’s big jacket and hat, telling him I wanted to be just like him.
He laughed so hard, but I remembered the pride in his eyes. That memory made me smile, even as tears streamed down my face.
It was getting dark, and I knew I had to go home. When I walked through the door, Mom was waiting, her face tight with worry.
“After you left, I took Grandma to the doctor,” she said, her voice breaking. “He said she doesn’t have much time left.”
I walked over and hugged her tightly, no words coming to mind. At that moment, I realized what I had to do.
The next day, I put on the suit that used to belong to Grandpa. It felt strange, like I was stepping into his shoes for real this time. I took Mom’s car and drove Grandma to the sea. She sat quietly beside me, not saying much, but I knew she was lost in her world.
When we got there, I had already set up a small table by the shore. The sea breeze felt cool, and the sound of the waves was calming.
I helped Grandma out of the car and guided her to the table. After she sat down, I lit the candles, their warm glow flickering in the wind.
“George!” Grandma said with a big smile. “You remembered our date by the sea.”
Her voice was weak, but I could see how happy she was. She looked at me like I really was Grandpa, her eyes full of warmth.
“Yes, Gretchen,” I said, sitting beside her. “I never forgot. How could I?”
She nodded slowly, still smiling. “It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”
That evening, I served Grandma the pasta Grandpa always made. I had spent hours in the kitchen earlier, following his recipe, hoping it would taste just like she remembered.
As she ate, I watched her closely, searching her face for any sign of recognition. She took slow bites, and I could see something change in her expression—a flicker of happiness.
After dinner, I played their favorite song, the one they used to dance to. The familiar melody filled the air, and I stood up, holding out my hand. “Would you like to dance, Gretchen?”
She looked at me, her eyes softening. “Of course, George.” I gently helped her up, and we swayed together.
For the first time in a long while, she smiled. In that moment, I could see she wasn’t lost in confusion; she was back in her happiest memories.
On the way home, she held my hand. “Thank you, George,” she said. “This was the best date ever.”
I just smiled at her, my heart heavy but full.
Two days later, Grandma passed away. I remember waking up that morning and feeling like something was different, like the house was quieter than usual.
When Mom told me, I didn’t know what to say. We just sat together in silence for a while, both of us crying. It was hard to accept, even though we knew it was coming.
I felt deep sadness, but at the same time, a strange sense of peace. I knew Gretchen was finally with her George again, where she belonged.
Paris Jackson says she feels dad Michael Jackson “with me all the time”
Paris Jackson has been a superstar her entire life despite being only 24 years old and the second child of the iconic musician Michael Jackson.
Paris has experienced several difficulties since the death of her father. But, the gifted young lady is currently pursuing her own singing career.
Despite the ups and downs in her life, she has now made the decision to talk about her upbringing with her father, known as the “King of Pop.” Few, if any, individuals are unaware of Michael Jackson’s existence.
Michael Jackson – “King of Pop”
You know, you’re not referred to as “The King of Pop” for nothing, do you? Even while we like the late singer’s music, his life wasn’t always easy.
Michael had domestic issues from the beginning, when he performed with his siblings in the Jackson Five, which were made worse by a strict father who was quick to discipline his children if they disobeyed.
Michael Jackson may be considered a product, someone who was created from an early age to be an entertainer and vocalist. That won’t change the fact that his music, dance, and songwriting are all absolute masterpieces.
When Michael Jackson passed away in 2009, the whole world mourned the singer. He had been chased by paparazzis’ and tabloid newspapers for pretty much his entire life, but not even when he was laid to rest for the last time was he spared.
Paris Jackson – Michael’s daughter
Several media helicopters followed the helicopters delivering his body from the hospital in Los Angeles. News about Michael Jackson and his family is still reported on all around the world today.
Nowadays, his family members receive the majority of the attention. His kids in particular have come under attack since the Jackson family is a popular target for paparazzi.
Paris Jackson, the second child of Jackson, has grown up in the public eye. She is now making every effort to distinguish herself from Michael Jackson’s child and become her own person.
She has been suffering from mental illness for a number of years, yet she is actually doing extremely well.
Paris Jackson – early life
On April 3, 1998, in California, Paris Jackson was born. She is Michael Jackson’s only daughter and his second kid.
She and her brother were both homeschooled up until the sixth grade, which made her early years quite private. The kids were carefully protected from the public because Michael Jackson was keen on allowing them to maintain their seclusion. The children in Michael’s family were either wearing costumes or having their heads wrapped in scarves to conceal their faces in early photographs.
As a result, life on the Neverland Ranch was extremely constrained for Paris and her siblings. No one can deny that they were immensely wealthy, but it must have also been difficult.
Speaking with supermodel Naomi Campbell, Paris Jackson opened up about her father, and what her upbringing was like.
She said that Michael Jackson made sure that they were “cultured”.
“My dad was really good about making sure we were cultured, making sure we were educated, and not just showing us like the glitz and glam, like hotel hopping, five-star places,” Paris said.
“It was also like, we saw everything. We saw third world countries. We saw every part of the spectrum.”
Speaks out on her childhood
Paris Jackson lived all over the world during her childhood days, as her father toured across the globe to play in front of hundreds of thousands of people.
She claims to have been quite appreciative of her “rich” upbringing. Paris also discovered early on that she should not feel entitled. Her father made sure that the kids understood the idea of working hard to attain what they want.
“Even growing up it was about earning stuff,” Paris said. “If we wanted five toys from FAO Schwarz or Toys ‘R’ Us, we had to read five books.
“It’s earning it, not just being entitled to certain things or thinking ‘oh I got this’,” she added. “It’s like working for it, working hard for it, it’s something else entirely, it’s an accomplishment.”
Paris was only 11 years old when her father passed away
Tragic passing of Michael Jackson
On June 25, 2009, “The King of Pop” experienced a heart arrest at home and soon after being taken to a neighboring hospital, he passed suddenly. According to Michael Jackson’s will, Paris and her brothers were placed in Katherine Jackson’s legal custody.
Paris, then 11 years old, spoke briefly about her father in front of the entire world during the funeral service that was broadcast on television.
“Ever since I was born, daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine,” she said. “And I just wanted to say I love him so much.”
Paris and her brothers, Prince Michael, 12, and Prince Michael II, 7, were all in attendance during the televised memorial service. In fact, that was pretty much the first time the world caught more than just a glimpse of Jackson’s children.
Then, in January 2010, they were once again were seen in public while accepting a posthumous Lifetime Achievement Award for their father at the 2010 Grammy
Paris Jackson – life after Neverland
In November the same year, Paris appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show to speak about her father, saying that he was amazing.
“I kind of felt like no one understood what a good father he was, he was the best cook ever,” she told Winfrey. “He was just a normal dad.”
“He made the best French toast in the world,” Paris added.
When Michael Jackson passed away, Paris Jackson moved into a mansion in Calabasas, California, with her grandmother Katherine Jackson, as well as other members of her family.
When she turned 19, she decided to move into Michael Jackson’s private studio at the family compound, which she transformed into a dorm-style bedroom.
Losing your father is hard as it is. But for Paris, it was much more than that. All of a sudden, she was expected to carry on her father’s legacy.
“I tried to grow up too fast”
Upon starting seventh grade, Paris decided to attend a private school. At this point, the only ones accepting her for who she was were the older kids, and it didn’t turn out perfect.
“I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn’t do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn’t really that nice of a person,” she tells us.
Around the same time, social media had become a thing, and Paris faced cyberbullying.
“The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great,” she explained. “But I don’t think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff.”
Paris went through a lot of trauma as a teenager. She even tried taking her own life following a very serious incident, but that was also somewhat of a turning point.
She spent her sophomore year, as well as half her junior year, at a therapeutic school in Utah, which was great for her.
“I’m a completely different person,” she said. “I was crazy. I was actually crazy, I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help.”
Paris Jackson – career
Paris graduated high school in 2015 – one year early – but by this point, she had a lot on her mind. She was one of the heirs of Michel Jackson’s billion-dollar heritage, and everyone saw her as a celebrity, even though she actually hadn’t done anything.
Now, though, Jackson is heading in the same direction as her father: the entertainment business. She’s taken her father’s advice seriously: if you want something, you have to put in work to get it. During the Naomi Campbell interview, Paris stated that she was a “full believer” that she should earn her own success.
For someone born into ridiculous wealth, as the child of one of the most famous people in modern history, this is something we truly adore Paris for. No matter what has happened in her past or who her father is, she wants to do her own thing.
She grew up around only adults except for her siblings. When she left Neverland to go to a real school, it was a big change for her. She grew up as the child of Michael Jackson, but for her, the world was more than that. And in the beginning, it sure was hard.
“Once I got introduced into the real world, I was shocked. It blew me away,” Paris explained. “Not just because it was sexist, but misogynist and racist and cruel. It was scary as hell. And it still is really scary.”
Modeling and music
So what did Paris do? Well, she went her own way, starting out working as a model. And she has a real talent for it!
In recent years, she’s been on the covers of some of the world’s most influential magazines, including Rolling Stone, Vogue and Narcisse to name a few.
For Paris, modeling is a very therapeutic and natural thing. Many were shocked when her father transformed via his many plastic surgeries. But in this age of social media and cyberbullying, Paris understands his choice.
“I’ve had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time,” she said. “Plenty of people think I’m ugly, and plenty of people don’t. But there’s a moment when I’m modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer’s telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it’s selfish.”
Through her Instagram page, Paris’s followers can see her life as she seems to like spending time with her friends, doing all the things in life she couldn’t really experience at a younger age.
Released her first album
She released her debut album Wilted in 2020, following in her father’s musical footsteps. Paris Jackson is doing music, but her CD is indie folk rather than the R&B and pop style for which her father was famous.
“It’s mainly just a story of heartbreak and love, in general, and the thoughts and feelings that come after it doesn’t work out,” she remarked.
Paris Jackson grew up with her father’s music, and she says she knows all the words to his songs. At the same time as she created her own sound, it’s inevitable that Michael Jackson’s taste in music influenced her.
“He loved classical music and jazz and Hip Hop and R&B and obviously the Motown stuff,” she says.
Paris Jackson has paid tribute to her father on her body, acquiring more than 50 tattoos. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson.
She has learned to cope with the devastating loss of her father rather than believing that time will make everything better.
She remembers Michael Jackson visiting her in her dreams, so she knows he will always be there with her.
“I live life with the mentality of ‘OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.’” she mentioned. “So going forward, anything bad that happens can’t be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it.
“I feel him with me all the time.”
People who have experienced parental loss may undoubtedly relate to Paris and the pain she is going through. Nobody, however, has had the same level of experience growing up as Paris Jackson had.
We’re ecstatic that she may now go about her business without being followed everywhere she goes by paparazzi. Paris, good luck!
Please, share this article with friends and family if you also think Paris Jackson is a brave woman!
Leave a Reply