“Hey Grandma Jean…"

Ever had a day when you were not quite at ease?  I’m having that kind of day.  A cold snap has happened in the deep South, and the temperature outside is 24 degrees.  I can’t blame the weather for this uneasiness.  I’d rather blame it on the first full moon of the year.  January 1 was a super moon. I had the luxury of driving when the moon emerged in all its fullness and I spent 4 hours driving in the moonlight.  Moonlight always affects me.  I don’t become a werewolf or anything life changing. I get overcome by thoughts; thoughts that don’t normally rattle around in my head. 

My time these days is not my own.  I haven’t been responsible for anyone for a few years and you can get used to that sort of thing when it happens to you.  Responsibility came my way when I was needed to care for my  ninety two year old grandmother, full time.  I had a little experience because over the course of the past year a series of events happened:  she broke her arm. She had blood circulation problems in her feet and developed gangrene and lost a little toe, and couldn’t use her arm or walk. She had a vein in her nose not clot when she had a bloody nose and lost a lot of blood, to the point she nearly died. Then there came the over the moon high blood pressure and congestive heart failure. Recently, her mind lost her common sense and she can’t think to do the simplest tasks, like cover herself if she is cold.  She is dependent and needs constant care.    

The moon, even though bright enough  to light the highway, it dims my thoughts.  I think of God, angels and my deceased family members.  Many nights my grandmother talks in her sleep.  She never names her dreamy companions .  Her conversations are deep and long.  I listen without waking her.  I wonder some days, if she will awake the next morning. 

I don’t know all my grandmother’s stories. I might know one percent of her life.  One percent of a ninety two year old life is nothing.  I know her full name, her birthday, and her brother and sister’s names.  My grandfather left her and had a whole other life.  I never knew him and I don’t think my father and his younger brother knew him either.  Their older brother knew him, and in many ways the family always kept all contact and information about him, hush hush. 

My father also divorced my mother when I was young.  He kept all photographs and information about their life hidden.  The truth of things should sometimes remain unsaid.  I understand it now that I am an adult, but as a child I questioned how my dad didn’t have any baby pictures of me.  The details of why they divorced are not a mystery.  I was six years old and I remember.  My mother had a temper and when mixed with alcohol or other drugs, she became someone to fear.  My father also had a temper.  It was a volatile relationship. The memories are violent, emotional, and tragic.  I never thought I was much like either of them. My parents are not those people anymore.  They are kind and age has taken most of the fight out of them.  

Caring for my grandmother, I have discovered I am a carbon copy of her.  We have the same personality.  We think the same things are funny.  She was creative, a painter.  I am a writer.  I have to create something every day. She did crafts like needle work, knitting and crocheting .   I  don’t mind repetitive crafts like working with wire or paper, or painting.  She kept her composure when others did not. My emotions are not determined by other’s emotions.  We share an energy when we are together. 

This past year has been a gift.  I shared so much time with my grandmother, and I found myself.  I never thought caring for another person draws out your character as much as caring for an elderly person.  When you are a parent, you know you are responsible.  You are a teacher. You see the child grow and develop.  When caring for an elderly person, you see all the things they were able to do themselves slip away, all the things learned; forgotten, and all their independence becomes an area of about 6 ft. by 6 ft.  To an infant, they have the world to discover. For my grandmother, the world has shrunk.

AS her caregiver, I am the sole person that is her world and I will feel a great loss when she joins her other family members in heaven.  Perhaps when she passes,  I will have conversations with her in my dreams.  

Love with your whole heart, even people who say they don’t love you back.   

-          - Daily Panic