Didn't someone used to live here?

I'm beginning to understand the book "The 36 Hour Day"... I need to actually read it. Grandma is still full of questions-

Does Belinda know I'm here? (Belinda is my mom, her daughter) 

Didn't Henry used to live here? (My dad, he lived here 19 years)

Is he still living? Well that's good but where is he? Tell that boy I need to see him..

Are you my great granddaughter? (No I'm her granddaughter)

Today was what day?

Then the other questions- the more miscellaneous-

What is in that glass? (Body spray)

Why is that cat so fat? (No clue)

Grandma still wonders where her room is... She wanders to my old bedroom frequently, as that is where she would stay when I was a child. I remind her we stayed there, her in my trundle bed, for many weeks and weekends over the course of my childhood. She would scratch my back, I'd rub her arm. Ah, sweet memories. 

I hold on to these.

Always.

The times where Grandma seems too slow for me to take, I remember the good, I remember the patience she had with me. The nights she keeps me awake, all night long, I treasure the nights she held me as a baby, all night long. The irritability that occurs during sundown, I remember the hell I put her through as a teen. Mostly, I hold on to the good. As she would want me too.

Love and Light

Me