Thirteen months of letters to my Grandparents. Thank you all for your help.
As I sealed the envelope and put the stamp onto it today, it occurred to me that I've been writing my Grandparents a weekly letter for over a year now. Back in September of last year, I resolved to write once a week, and I've been pretty close to faithful to that resolution. Originally, the intention was to try to re-engage Grandma in the land of the living, and give Grandpa some kind of adventure for him to enjoy. (Certainly my life is not glamorous or amazing, but it's better than four cream colored walls and oatmeal.) I've also focused on including at least one photo in each letter. The photos are almost - if not completely - more important than the words around them, because of the windows my photos open for Grandma and Grandpa to see.
I'm proud of myself. I'm proud that I've been able to keep this effort up for my Grandparents. Even as my Grandparents and their surroundings fade away, these letters mean that much more to them.
And yes, I'm still a nut job about the camera. Last weekend, I took a photo of a cat wearing a silly knitted hat and looking mighty bored with the world. Last night I took a picture of a collection of umbrellas parked outside a knitting store, underneath the awning, in front of the Open sign. These pictures might never make it into a letter, or they might be included out of time or context, but I took them because I was thinking of my Grandparents and the idea that these items and sights might be interesting. I took those photos out of love and caring and humor and a desire to share my life with people who are no longer capable of going anywhere or doing anything without a great deal of external energy and effort.
So, what I'm really trying to say is thanks, everyone. Thanks for letting me take those silly photos. Thanks for putting up with my "wait a sec!" scrambles for my camera. Thanks for helping me entertain my Grandparents, week after week, with the tidbits and sillinesses that make up my day-to-day. You make up my day-to-day, and it is with and through you that I am able to build the stories and letters that I send out every week, sealed with a smile.
I'm proud of myself. I'm proud that I've been able to keep this effort up for my Grandparents. Even as my Grandparents and their surroundings fade away, these letters mean that much more to them.
And yes, I'm still a nut job about the camera. Last weekend, I took a photo of a cat wearing a silly knitted hat and looking mighty bored with the world. Last night I took a picture of a collection of umbrellas parked outside a knitting store, underneath the awning, in front of the Open sign. These pictures might never make it into a letter, or they might be included out of time or context, but I took them because I was thinking of my Grandparents and the idea that these items and sights might be interesting. I took those photos out of love and caring and humor and a desire to share my life with people who are no longer capable of going anywhere or doing anything without a great deal of external energy and effort.
So, what I'm really trying to say is thanks, everyone. Thanks for letting me take those silly photos. Thanks for putting up with my "wait a sec!" scrambles for my camera. Thanks for helping me entertain my Grandparents, week after week, with the tidbits and sillinesses that make up my day-to-day. You make up my day-to-day, and it is with and through you that I am able to build the stories and letters that I send out every week, sealed with a smile.