Grateful for Grandma
My year of volunteering at a nursing home while I was a senior in high school came in handy yesterday. I visited my grandma in her nursing home in Mt. Angel and had to help her eat because her motor skills were quite slow and her hands too shaky to steadily guide food to her mouth. I didn't mind helping her, of course, but I wondered if she felt embarrassed that her young granddaughter had to feed her.
Though my grandma has always needed a man to support her, she is also used to doing things for herself. If you take away her ability to brush her own teeth or put on her own makeup she gets rather upset. The last time I visited her when she lived in Medford, shortly before they moved her closer to Portland (shortly before she almost died here), we took her to dinner and breakfast. For each meal she was completely color coordinated. Her clothes, her jacket, her makeup, her jewelry and the barrettes in her hair all matched.
Yesterday, she had on black sweat-type pants with a red stripe on the side and a pink and white striped shirt. Not an outfit she chose, I assure you. I went to get her a sweater and tried my hardest to find something that matched. Alas, a light purple piece was the best I could do. She didn't seem to notice and I'm sure that being color coordinated is actually a distant thought for her, at this point.
I think the most amazing thing about all this with my grandma is that I've never really been that close her, I took the obligated trips to visit her with my mom, but I've never felt closer to her than I do now, as she nears the end of her life. There's part of me that feels guilty about that, but there's also parts of me that doesn't want to let go of my resentment towards her that she was physically and emotionally abusive to my mom. That side of her is long gone, and I never got to actually see it, of course, but I resented her for it just the same.
Now, however, when I walk in and hug her and she says, "hi baby", I turn to mush. And it makes me sad that we didn't have that earlier. But I am so grateful to have it now.
Love,
Aislinn
Though my grandma has always needed a man to support her, she is also used to doing things for herself. If you take away her ability to brush her own teeth or put on her own makeup she gets rather upset. The last time I visited her when she lived in Medford, shortly before they moved her closer to Portland (shortly before she almost died here), we took her to dinner and breakfast. For each meal she was completely color coordinated. Her clothes, her jacket, her makeup, her jewelry and the barrettes in her hair all matched.
Yesterday, she had on black sweat-type pants with a red stripe on the side and a pink and white striped shirt. Not an outfit she chose, I assure you. I went to get her a sweater and tried my hardest to find something that matched. Alas, a light purple piece was the best I could do. She didn't seem to notice and I'm sure that being color coordinated is actually a distant thought for her, at this point.
I think the most amazing thing about all this with my grandma is that I've never really been that close her, I took the obligated trips to visit her with my mom, but I've never felt closer to her than I do now, as she nears the end of her life. There's part of me that feels guilty about that, but there's also parts of me that doesn't want to let go of my resentment towards her that she was physically and emotionally abusive to my mom. That side of her is long gone, and I never got to actually see it, of course, but I resented her for it just the same.
Now, however, when I walk in and hug her and she says, "hi baby", I turn to mush. And it makes me sad that we didn't have that earlier. But I am so grateful to have it now.
Love,
Aislinn
posted by Aislinn at
2:22 PM
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