So, we're in Utah.
We're having fun, got to do things like see school buses, and go to Vernal for a few days. I'll upload those pictures later, for now I just wanted to get a few things out of my brain, kinda like Dumbledore and his penseive. (I think that's how it's spelled. It's been awhile since I read those.) Plus, it's late at night, and I am blogging from bed on my handy dandy new little mini iPad that John won at a convention a couple weeks ago and all my pictures are elsewhere like on my phone or on a SIM card, and it would be just too much of a pain to try and add pictures to this particular post later.
So anyway, life and stuff.
I'm having trouble deciding what exactly to share. Sometimes things aren't yours to share with cyberspace, and sometimes that line isn't exactly clear. Hopefully, given the late hour, and my decreased brain function because of that, I won't cross the line too many times.
Anyways, I am sure no family is free from its share of drama, and we are having our own right now. Actually if I was gonna be honest, there's always drama of some sort, it just varies.
Most of the drama these days revolves around my grandmother. She's in her late 80's, and has health issues, which mean she can't live alone any more. She's moving to a facility this week, a nice one. One that's more like a hotel with activities and good food and where she'll be taken care of.
I mention this because I had an encounter with my grandma that keeps bouncing around in my brain. To be fair, the question of Alzheimer's has been tossed around, because half the time she's herself, and the other half, she's not.
Anyway, we had invited her over to eat dinner and spend some time with my kids, which she is always eager to do, but this time, after only a few minutes, she wanted to just go and sit outside and pretty much be alone. I helped her out, and sat down by her. Instead of her usual chatty self, telling me some story about growing up, or going on about some distant relative I barely know, she sat there very quiet and withdrawn. She asked me to trim and file her nails for her, so I did, and as I sat there doing this little thing for her I knew she couldn't do for herself ( which to be honest, I wasn't thrilled about, I barely take care of my own nails, but I highly doubted her arthritic hands would be up for the task) and she let out a heavy sigh and then started to talk.
"You know, if I had it to do all over again, I'd do things differently. I'd think about myself more and not do so much for other people. Nobody appreciates anything I've done for them, and now nobody does anything for me."
She pointed out a bush and a flowering vine that she had planted years ago, and lamented the fact that nobody cared and nobody was going to see those and think of her and her service after she had gone.
So much to think about.
First off, I'm thinking the Alzheimer's theory isn't totally out there. Who says that?!? What kind of person spends their life doing for others, and in their last days wishes they were more selfish during their life? Of course, all her "help" wasn't always exactly appreciated, she loved to give away expired cans of food, and manky old used stuffed animals from second hand stores. But I was ever grateful when I was a young mom living here in Utah and she would call me up and offer to come over and hold a colicky baby girl so I could get some sleep. It meant the world to me. I am sure she saved my sanity.
Secondly, I think sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself has got to be one miserable way to live. She can't drive, she can't walk without some kind of support, she has to sell her house that she just paid off by herself, to pay for the "assisted living" or whatever it's called. She has to rely on someone for almost everything, and I think that can lead to a selfish way of thinking. Spending your days thinking about what others can do for you instead of the other way around. She's just flat out unhappy, and frustrated, and probably feels trapped and helpless. ( of course this is just my observation).
Thirdly, I think we all want to leave some mark on the world. Something to prove we were here and mattered. That we will be thought of and missed when we are gone. Every year she has invited anyone stepping through her door at Christmastime to "pick an ornament off her tree". I think she has visions of everyone lovingly thinking of her each year as they hang that ornament in a place of honor on their own trees. Sadly though, I have my suspicions that many of those ornaments either served as space fillers on the back of trees, or never actually made it on the intended trees. Maybe it's just me though. (I'm not overly sentimental)
Fourthly, what do I take from all of this? What lessons can I learn? I think service once upon a time was a source of great joy for my grandma, and who doesn't want to be happier? And time and time again it is reaffirmed to me that happiness is a choice, but at the same time, how do I not end up like her? Not grow old? Is her happiness (or lack thereof) a choice, or is her brain rotting away with disease, or both? What will be my fate?
