As I was driving home, I noticed the bright full moon overhead. Since I (we) never go out past 7 p.m. (boring married life) I haven't noticed the full moon in quite some time. It timidly reminded me that everything in life starts over. We have cycles. Damn annoying and painful women cycles, months and years and dishwashers all have timed cycles where they start, have a middle, then have an end, and they repeat these over and over...
And then I started to cry, and then I tried to stop because driving on the freeway at night with tears streaming down your cheeks is downright scary. And a little embarrassing.
My mom told me tonight that my grandma might die soon. Hospice called my dad to talk options. You say that word- hospice- and the curtains come down. Death is around the corner. She has been in a care facility for a few weeks. She had deteriorated quickly- she was confused and unhappy at home, where her blind husband with his own health problems could no longer care for her on his own- she wouldn't shower, and kept fleeing the house- so my dad stepped in and got her admitted to the hospital, where they treated her and got her into a care center with others like her (Alzheimer's, dementia) and at this point she is just not herself anymore. She talks gibberish most of the time, and just recently (this week) she has forgotten who my dad is. He was the last one to disappear into the depths of her illness.
They say that with this disease, you lose your memories, but not your feelings. So you don't know who you are, you can't remember who you love and trust, so all you have are these feelings leftover from your whole life to deal with. And you have to deal with them with no memory of why they are there. Haunting you. Sounds like torture to me. I don't wish this fate on anyone, especially not my sweet, loving and beautiful grandma.
I have not written about her yet. Not in detail anyway. So much has been going on in the past few months, yet I say nothing on this here blog. I know it's been coming. I could feel it. It just hasn't been the right time. Several times I have thought to myself "it would do you some good to get it out there. Get a good cry in." (or out, I guess)
Yes, I am saddened. It's hard to see her like this. But mostly my heart is breaking for my dad. Visiting her daily, feeding her, calming her. Watching her disappear. The weary look he wears so often nowadays is the same one I remember when my grandpa was sick. He would go and record my grandpa telling his life story in the months before he passed. I can still hear his voice- dry and a little crackly, he would clear his throat often when he would speak. I loved that man. He died 20 years ago. You can catch Loo-loo talking about him occasionally, even though she was only 4 when he died. She says she talks to him and Jesus in her dreams. Pretty powerful, that sister of mine.
My grandma has given me so much over my lifetime. I have inherited so many of her talents- without her genes and her inspiration, I would not be who I am today. Yes I am a little bit scatterbrained, have thread and fabric scraps littering the floors of my house, and often forget to plan dinner because I am so enthralled by whatever I am sewing- but I love having these gifts. I love being able to create and learn so easily. (and sometimes not so easily)
I am so fortunate to possess these talents, and not a day goes by that I am not eternally grateful for what I have been given. Do I deserve them? Sometimes I think not. I make people feel bad about themselves sometimes. I get this look that says "why are you so special? Hu? why do you get to do all of these things so easily?" right before they say to my face "well aren't you just a little martha stewart?" I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Don't be mad. I'm not trying to show you up, so don't hate me, okay?
Anyway, I digress.
I just couldn't go to bed tonight. Danny asked me very nicely, but I wasn't ready yet. I read my facebook page 3 times, then brushed my teeth, washed my face, took my pills. Then I made Danny his lunch. Still not ready for bed. So I grabbed the littlest cow and headed for the front porch.
Cobain, Kobe, the littlest cow, cow-cow, grouchy cow
We sat, in the warm air, the still night. The sky looked so light for 2 a.m.- then I remembered the full moon. I laid my cheek onto Kobe's warm and furry head, as she sniffed and sniffed the spring night air. When she is excited, (or annoyed) she loudly puffs each breath out through her mouth. Puff, puff, puff. I look around the neighborhood- even the snowboarder party house is quietly dark. The strangely light night sky reminds me of the moments before sunrise- I keep thinking that I stayed up all night and didn't even realize it. That any moment, it will be morning. The start of a new day. There are those damn cycles again.
And that's when I knew that I was ready. Ready to write about my grandma. Ready to cry. To start crying, anyway.
I will be a blubbering fool in no time.
