As I've grown older holidays have taken on new meaning for me. As much as a time for celebration, they now stand out as bold milestones marking yet another year passed. On Mother's Day this year I was especially struck by that feeling.
So much has happened in the past year. Was it only 12 months ago that my family sat doing needle point together in my Grandma's garden? Now her home of over 50 years sits vacant waiting to be sold. Half of her cherished possessions are still inside because there isn't room for everything in her apartment at the memory care center where she has lived since March.
Sudden-onset dementia forced itself into our lives this winter. Fortunately, my Grandma has the type that comes and goes, so although sometimes she doesn't know where she is or who we are, other days we still get the gift of her full presence. (I love those days.)
I'm glad she was completely with us the day we moved her, even though that day has left a permanent scar on my heart. My mom had been explaining the plan to her for weeks, but nothing could prepare her. None of us were prepared.
It was more than Grandma could bear to see her living room with her couch moved out. She collapsed into my arms and sobbed. It was the first time I've seen her cry. She knew she was no longer in control. Dementia had moved in and taken over without consent.
Nothing about that day was easy. We went through the motions like robots wearing fake smiles as we introduced Grandma to her new home. We were going to make this a happy place if our lives depended on it, damn it!
The definition of home just had to change.
It hasn't been easy (of course not), but Grandma has actually adjusted quite well to her new surroundings. My wonderful mom is still there everyday, so that's why it is home, but Grandma is also enjoying some of the activities and social interaction enabled through community living.
My kids wish we could move in to the unit next door! How cool would it be to live in a place with a daily packed agenda of balloon volleyball, miniature golf, manicures, sing-a-longs, and arts and crafts?! It's just like preschool.
It really is.
On Mother's Day I saw my Grandma cry again, when she read the card from my mom. "This makes me so sad," she said. "Because I'm no good anymore."
She was fully present. But she was totally wrong. I hope we convinced her of that. No matter where she is - in mind or body - my Grandma continues to teach me more about love and life than I ever knew possible.
I love you, Grandma.
So much has happened in the past year. Was it only 12 months ago that my family sat doing needle point together in my Grandma's garden? Now her home of over 50 years sits vacant waiting to be sold. Half of her cherished possessions are still inside because there isn't room for everything in her apartment at the memory care center where she has lived since March.
Sudden-onset dementia forced itself into our lives this winter. Fortunately, my Grandma has the type that comes and goes, so although sometimes she doesn't know where she is or who we are, other days we still get the gift of her full presence. (I love those days.)
I'm glad she was completely with us the day we moved her, even though that day has left a permanent scar on my heart. My mom had been explaining the plan to her for weeks, but nothing could prepare her. None of us were prepared.
It was more than Grandma could bear to see her living room with her couch moved out. She collapsed into my arms and sobbed. It was the first time I've seen her cry. She knew she was no longer in control. Dementia had moved in and taken over without consent.
Nothing about that day was easy. We went through the motions like robots wearing fake smiles as we introduced Grandma to her new home. We were going to make this a happy place if our lives depended on it, damn it!
The definition of home just had to change.
It hasn't been easy (of course not), but Grandma has actually adjusted quite well to her new surroundings. My wonderful mom is still there everyday, so that's why it is home, but Grandma is also enjoying some of the activities and social interaction enabled through community living.
My kids wish we could move in to the unit next door! How cool would it be to live in a place with a daily packed agenda of balloon volleyball, miniature golf, manicures, sing-a-longs, and arts and crafts?! It's just like preschool.
It really is.
On Mother's Day I saw my Grandma cry again, when she read the card from my mom. "This makes me so sad," she said. "Because I'm no good anymore."
She was fully present. But she was totally wrong. I hope we convinced her of that. No matter where she is - in mind or body - my Grandma continues to teach me more about love and life than I ever knew possible.
I love you, Grandma.
Simply beautiful!
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