Coffee Talk
I called my grandmother last night. We seem to have an unspoken arrangement that I call just so often. When I call too soon, she sounds confused and wonders what my story is. When I take too long, I get the whole "Oh, I haven't heard from you in a while. You must be busy" routine. Frequently I go "9:30! SHIT!" and it's too late to call. I'll do this many nights in a row.
I called last night at about 8:15 PM and she sounded like she was already about asleep. She said that Grandpa had told her that he was going to bed at 7:00 and did and that that was something new. So she went ahead and got an old movie tape and went in her room and put it on. She said it was so old she didn't even recognize the actors. Her voice was extremely weak and I couldn't tell if it was that she was so very tired or if she is so very defeated. It is likely a bunch of both.
She said that both my dad and Randy (my uncle) had called in the last week. No, actually, Randy had called and Grandpa had asked to call my dad. He wanted to talk with him. Grandma always puts the preface on for you before she hands the phone to Grandpa. She says "Now, just talk to Grandpa and when you're done talking just say you have to go". She says in both instances, Grandpa talked and talked about things that were really going on, and asked appropriate questions and seemed right on target, but that the minute he switched the switch and went into his whole flying airplanes to New York and playing for the Yankees routine, both my dad and my uncle said "I have to go". She said that she thought that it was too uncomfortable for his sons to deal with. I suppose that's natural.
It's interesting how as he withdraws from reality, his family withdraws from him. There must be a psychological explanation; it must be a pre-grieving process of some kind. I can listen to him forever and interact when he's recalling his false memories. He still enjoys telling the story even though it isn't true. I think that my ability to do this stems from knowing that many of our few family members wouldn't be able to as well. Plus, of course, I am eternally in my grandparents' debt, as they took the best care of me when I was a child, when my own parents couldn't step up to do it.
It's almost time for petunias. Grandma is partial to Wave brand Petunias, so I'll swing by Lowe's and get enough to fill their deck planters, front step planter and the front yard boxes. The two of them used to spend the entire day all day every beautiful summer day in the garden. There was nothing my grandpa couldn't grow and Grandma's roses would make you drunk with their intoxicating aromas and various bright colors. Now their garden appreciation is limited to these small pots of flowers; their world is hemmed in, tighter than the property line, all the way up to nearly the windows.
I don't want my life to be a bell graph, where my world grows wider for an unknown time and then closes in on me. Will my family cast their glances away from me, will I be a responsibility, not a blessing, when I am old? Will I spend all my time ruminating on this instead of going out and living a crazy fun life while I can?
I called last night at about 8:15 PM and she sounded like she was already about asleep. She said that Grandpa had told her that he was going to bed at 7:00 and did and that that was something new. So she went ahead and got an old movie tape and went in her room and put it on. She said it was so old she didn't even recognize the actors. Her voice was extremely weak and I couldn't tell if it was that she was so very tired or if she is so very defeated. It is likely a bunch of both.
She said that both my dad and Randy (my uncle) had called in the last week. No, actually, Randy had called and Grandpa had asked to call my dad. He wanted to talk with him. Grandma always puts the preface on for you before she hands the phone to Grandpa. She says "Now, just talk to Grandpa and when you're done talking just say you have to go". She says in both instances, Grandpa talked and talked about things that were really going on, and asked appropriate questions and seemed right on target, but that the minute he switched the switch and went into his whole flying airplanes to New York and playing for the Yankees routine, both my dad and my uncle said "I have to go". She said that she thought that it was too uncomfortable for his sons to deal with. I suppose that's natural.
It's interesting how as he withdraws from reality, his family withdraws from him. There must be a psychological explanation; it must be a pre-grieving process of some kind. I can listen to him forever and interact when he's recalling his false memories. He still enjoys telling the story even though it isn't true. I think that my ability to do this stems from knowing that many of our few family members wouldn't be able to as well. Plus, of course, I am eternally in my grandparents' debt, as they took the best care of me when I was a child, when my own parents couldn't step up to do it.
It's almost time for petunias. Grandma is partial to Wave brand Petunias, so I'll swing by Lowe's and get enough to fill their deck planters, front step planter and the front yard boxes. The two of them used to spend the entire day all day every beautiful summer day in the garden. There was nothing my grandpa couldn't grow and Grandma's roses would make you drunk with their intoxicating aromas and various bright colors. Now their garden appreciation is limited to these small pots of flowers; their world is hemmed in, tighter than the property line, all the way up to nearly the windows.
I don't want my life to be a bell graph, where my world grows wider for an unknown time and then closes in on me. Will my family cast their glances away from me, will I be a responsibility, not a blessing, when I am old? Will I spend all my time ruminating on this instead of going out and living a crazy fun life while I can?