"It's Saturday, Grandma."
"So has Sunday come yet?"
"No ma'am, that's tomorrow," I reply.
Then she always asks, "so when is day stay?"
"That's Monday, Grandma"
And this is how it goes. Most every weekend. It's interesting to me that she never mentions church anymore. She does tell me how she was the minister in Monticello for 16 years (true story) and how she would like to go back and see them... I don't tell her they've all died or gone to nursing homes.
Anyway, today is Saturday. A dreary day, but a day with Grandma nonetheless. I has my first experience bathing her this morning. She usually does this on her own, but that's because she has a walk in shower at my mom's house. Here, it's just a traditional tub and shower. She's scared she will fall. So I help. Get her the shower chair and hop in with her. She doesn't seem to mind. Still, I'm overwhelmed with compassion. Grandma was always a private woman, she didn't even like us to watch her brush her teeth. Now, we help her bathe. I guess as long as she doesn't mind, it's all okay.
Now back to her talking to me and singing to me as I fold the laundry.
Happy Saturday.
Love and Light
DBear
Is this a horrible disease? Absolutely! Our reaction could be crying, screaming, depression, asking "why?". Or it could be the one we all seem to take: one day at a time, one step at a time, doing what we have to do, continuing to love our Gma/Mom, laughing when we can and building beautiful memories for ourselves!
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