1.19.98

Colder today than yesterday. Around 12 degrees Fahrenheit. Wind chill factor dips it even more. My family has a standing chat date at noon (my time) Mondays. Today, only my g-ma showed up so the two of us sat reading slow-to-appear text on ICQ chat. Usually we talk about surface things like what she’s been doing, what other people have been doing, what the heck is wrong with her internet connectivity, etc. In the midst of all that she mentioned that she had stopped by two apartment places that offered assisted living services for folks. Immediately, I felt a little panicked, a little out of control. I’m so far away from her that I can’t be there to advocate for her, like I feel she needs. Yeah, other family members are really rising to the task and are there for her everyday when she needs an errand or needs to be carted off to the doctor once again. But my concern is that they aren’t there for her emotionally. I know from growing up in that family that direct emotional expression is virtually unheard of and a no-no. I’ve spent several years of my fledgling adulthood learning how to express emotions, feel them, and accept them as part of my life. Unh! I spent so many years trying so hard to shut out feelings, trying hard to be strong. I overdeveloped my analytical side to hide from pain. It’s true my g-ma is part of that. I learned from her to hide it. But I also know that just because one doesn’t express it, or because one is incapable of really hearing another person’s expression, certainly does not mean that they don’t want to be heard or not to know that another is having a hard time too. I dove in with her today. Probably one of the better conversations we’ve had and at the end I felt so lonely and so satisfied with the feelings that came to me, feelings I expressed to her. I know she felt it too. She even said to me that she hoped to have more conversations where we can share our thoughts like we did today. Me too, gramma. I need too. She is in a time of life transition. A period we all experience in our own lives and certainly in the lives of our parents, grandparents. The truth is, it is often treated like it’s only her transition and not ours too. I think people feel alone; I think she feels alone but doesn’t articulate it directly. And, geez, if she did how would anyone in my family respond? I can’t imagine anyone knowing how to handle a statement bearing that kind of weight. So I told her. I told her how painful it is for me to go through this time of change with her. All of these things changing in her life change mine too and it hurts. I said I wanted to share it with her, go through it together so we can be supportive with each other - so we are not alone. I worry she will be pushed to do something she doesn’t want to do. She can be pushed over. She assured me that her stubbornness has thus far held out. Go g-ma. Although I don’t always agree with the decisions she makes, I think it’s important to empower her through independence. If there is one thing I know about her it is that she enjoys independence. If she cannot have independence in mobility, we should at least respect it mentally. It’s hard when you care for someone though; you always want to do the right thing and speak on their behalf. I’m getting away from what I want to say. SO… I felt absolutely terrified when she said she was looking into assisted living arrangements. First I thought that I can’t let someone else make that decision for her. I need to be there. I need to make sure she isn’t getting walked over. How can I trust that no one will walk over her? If I show emotion around what others are doing for her, other family members wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. Give me strange looks, put me in the "child" role. See, that "if you show emotion you’re nuts" thing that runs my family. I hate that. Then I felt so sad. I sat at this desk and just cried while typing. I made less typos I noticed. If she moves away from her home, which was (is) my home, what will become of it? What will be my base? What will happen to all of her things? So hard for me to let go of that. I always need that stability - that constant - in my life. After my mom died we had to move from the home that was hers to a place that had no connection with her. I resisted it with every ounce of strength I had. My family, including g-ma, wasn’t sure what to do with my emotions and so they held it back. G-ma said then, "I’m just thinking about it." Next thing I knew, I’d come back from a camping trip to find the livestock sold off, my mom’s horses euthanized. My own horses had been sold. We moved anyway. I knew we had to, you know? I mean it was a farm. My g-ma couldn’t care for it by herself. I was young and a natural born non-farmer; I was little help. Still, that place was mom’s home and to leave it was to leave her again. Today g-ma said, "Don’t worry, I’m just thinking about it." And all I could think of was that first time we moved. I have nothing to lose by telling her everything I feel. I’m not afraid that she may not hear me or that somehow my feelings will be invalidated. The only thing I care about is that she knows that I am feeling and experiencing and living through this with her. That I want to be with her and give her love and support when she needs it. Being able to do that for her brings me satisfaction, a way to show her how important she is to me. It’s also a way for me to practice a life ritual. Lesser advanced societies maintain rituals around aging and rites of passage. What is it about modernity that makes us believe we should ignore that? Is it the Western need to cheat death and so we deny it? In trying to cheat it, we don’t allow ourselves to come to terms with it. I think of my mom dying in a sterile, smelly hospital. Why didn’t they just let her come home and rest among the surroundings she’d known all of her life? I think of her requesting a milkshake shortly before dying. Like mother, like daughter. Taking advantage, using foresight. All things are selfish. I never want to think, "I wish I had been able to say what I felt to her when I had the chance." Carpe Diem.

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