It's about time I revived this. My mom told me a few weeks ago that I should start a blog. She doesn't know that I already have one.
I went to visit Grandma in the home today. It was difficult and the first thing I noticed was the smell of the halls, and that made it worse than it needed to be. Grandma, at the time, was on the other end of the hall, walking. That's all she does anymore. She doesn't sit, she doesn't talk, she paces the hall. From one end to the other, all day.
I remember one of the most prominent things about my Grandma was the fact that she was always humming. She was always so happy and there was almost never a moment when she wasn't humming a tune of some sort. She doesn't even do that anymore.
Today she was in a good mood, and there were times when she would look right at me and I could almost see the flash of recognition in her eyes. She would only look at you if she wanted to. She wouldn't look if someone said "Do you remember Eryn?" and point in my direction.
It's so beautiful to see Papa and Grandma together. You can definitely see that she still loves him. Today she took a nap while we were there. I didn't really want to stay, but I thought it would be a sin to wake her up when she was so tired.
And as beautiful as it is to see them together, it's terribly, terribly sad at the same time. The first thing my Papa did was take her hand and lead her around. It... well, I don't know. I almost cried. I did cry. I'm crying now. I can't imagine losing your spouse like that. Having them there but not there at the same time. I love my Grandma so much, and it was hard to sit there and watch her. She didn't respond to anything we said, she just sat and stared into the distance.
I can't say it was something I didn't expect, though. I did expect it. In fact, I think I expected worse. My Mom described her as a withered old woman, but I thought she was just sweet. Sweet and oblivious.
After we came in from outside, after she had napped, my cousin and I walked the halls with her, hand in hand. When we were walking down an old man stopped me, took my hand and told me "God Bless You."
He was crying. It made me cry, too. He was a really nice man. I said "Thank You."
I wonder why he stopped me. I wonder if he knew I was walking with my Grandma, or if he thought he recognized me...
All of the people in that ward were so nice, and I wasn't scared. Usually I would have felt uneasy, but they all had the best of intentions.
When we left, Grandma gave Papa a hug, but she walked away before anyone else had the chance. I don't mind. I think I'll go back. I don't need a hug to know that if she recognized me today, she loved me, and I loved her back.
What bothered me most is that when we were sitting and talking around her--because there really was no talking to her-- they kept asking me what I thought of my Grandma and about her condition. I didn't feel comfortable talking about that in front of her, because no one knows what they're thinking. Maybe they're completely coherent on the inside, and just can't express it on the outside. It wouldn't be fair to talk about someone in third person if they're sitting right next to you, and the same goes for a person who can't respond. It's a disease. A horrible disease, but that doesn't change the person. Grandma is there somewhere, even if she's not right there.
I'm not really in the mood to type anything else.
I love you, Grandma. I think God prepared me for this day, he made me strong. I just hope you're not hurting somewhere, because I don't think I could bear that.
God Bless You.
