Selma
I don't know what suddenly made me think of you, but I've been thinking of a lot of things late at night when I can't sleep.
I wish I had been better to you before Uncle Danny took you away with him. I wish I had been more tolerant, more understanding, more sympathetic. You were always the little old lady complaining about her aches and pains at the dinner table. As I hit my teens, I became haughty towards you; I found you boring and tried to avoid spending nights at your apartment when I figured I could be doing better things instead. When we did spend time together, I remember always reading a book or putting on my headphones, even though I knew you wanted to talk to me.
Ever since you left us, I've barely thought of you. The news from Danny that you'd developed delirium and Alzheimer's in the meantime never hit me very hard; sometimes I've thought myself cold and heartless for that, but one way or another I managed to forget you.
But now that I feel completely lost, I wish I could spend just one more night in your home, eating Jello with banana slices for dessert and hot oatmeal in the morning. I don't think I ever realized how much you loved me, and for the first time, at almost 6 AM this morning, I cried over you.
I'd like to come over and take care of you, even though you wouldn't know who I am anymore. I'd like to be a good grandson and make you feel as secure as you once made me. You were simple and ignorant, and often annoying, but I don't care anymore. Now when I think of how I acted over those years, the image of you rotting away in your lonely apartment comes back to haunt me. Your friends all died or moved away, and eventually the cat gave up the ghost, too. Mostly, I wish you were here to see how I've grown up; I hate living with the fact that I won't be with you again until your funeral.
I wish I had been better to you before Uncle Danny took you away with him. I wish I had been more tolerant, more understanding, more sympathetic. You were always the little old lady complaining about her aches and pains at the dinner table. As I hit my teens, I became haughty towards you; I found you boring and tried to avoid spending nights at your apartment when I figured I could be doing better things instead. When we did spend time together, I remember always reading a book or putting on my headphones, even though I knew you wanted to talk to me.
Ever since you left us, I've barely thought of you. The news from Danny that you'd developed delirium and Alzheimer's in the meantime never hit me very hard; sometimes I've thought myself cold and heartless for that, but one way or another I managed to forget you.
But now that I feel completely lost, I wish I could spend just one more night in your home, eating Jello with banana slices for dessert and hot oatmeal in the morning. I don't think I ever realized how much you loved me, and for the first time, at almost 6 AM this morning, I cried over you.
I'd like to come over and take care of you, even though you wouldn't know who I am anymore. I'd like to be a good grandson and make you feel as secure as you once made me. You were simple and ignorant, and often annoying, but I don't care anymore. Now when I think of how I acted over those years, the image of you rotting away in your lonely apartment comes back to haunt me. Your friends all died or moved away, and eventually the cat gave up the ghost, too. Mostly, I wish you were here to see how I've grown up; I hate living with the fact that I won't be with you again until your funeral.