For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers.
Slice of Life #22:
Day 30/31: A Visit to Grandma's
"Oh, for goodness sake!" Grandma's familiar, welcoming voice greets us as we enter her small room. With the assistance of her walker, she lunges forward to meet us. Before I can say much, she leans over her walker to give us each a hug.
"Hi Grandma! It's Trina, Kathy's youngest and my two children." Throughout the visit, I will share who I am and who the children are several times. I feel a twinge of sadness each time I make introductions with Grandma. At nearly ninety-eight years old, often Grandma's Alzheimer's robs her of her clarity.
Since Grandma gets easily tired, we spend a little less than two hours visiting with her at the assisted living center. However, the short time we spend with Grandma is rich in conversation. She asks her great-grandchildren what's keeping them busy in school. She's curious about what my sixteen year old son wants to do beyond high school. She reminds both of her great-grandchildren how much she loves them. A few moments later Grandma tells us a vivid story about when my mom was small and ruined her white dress after picking strawberries in the neighbor's garden. Next, she tells us that she met my grandpa when she was just four years old, and he lived at the neighboring farm. She talks about how much she misses Grandpa.
Just like each time I talk to her, Grandma wonders when she will get to drive her car again. Although she hasn't driven for years, she is focused on getting her car back. As a distraction and persuasion why she wouldn't want a car, I share how much gas is and how busy the traffic is. No matter. She reassures me that as soon as she gets permission to drive again that she will hop in the car and drive the four plus hours to visit me and the kids.
For a good part of our visit, Grandma's tender hand holds mine. It is my favorite part of the visit. If I could bottle this tender exchange, I would.
Although Grandma knows that I am one of her eleven grandchildren, she doesn't call me by name. No matter. Being by her side and holding her hand is enough for me. I feel fortunate that I got to visit her. I am grateful that my children got to visit her, too.
Watching someone grow old and suffer from Alzheimer’s is so difficult and bittersweet. You’re teaching your children important lessons about dignity and respect to the aging. And you’re giving your grandmother the gift of an audience for her stories, which I suspect she tells as much to cement them in her mind as to share them w/ you.
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