Tonight's picture was taken in September of 2006. Mattie was four and a half years old and in preschool. This was one of our many weekend adventures on a nature trail together. There were moments during our walks when Mattie would get tired, and would immediately run to Peter to be carried. You can see the smirk on Mattie's face here, which indicated that I caught Mattie on camera making a convincing case to Peter as to why he needed to be carried. Mattie was smirking and Peter was almost laughing after hearing what Mattie was saying to him! Not sure you would have understood the full dynamic of this picture unless I explained it to you.
Quote of the day: Tearless grief bleeds inwardly. ~ Christian Nevell Bovee
On this day, 17 years ago, my maternal grandmother died. I grew up in a multigenerational household, since my grandmother lived with my parents. She and I were very close to each other. My grandmother was a very kind, compassionate, selfless, and giving individual. When I was in college she suffered a massive stroke which left her partially paralyzed and with a change in personality. She never regained the ability to walk, read, care for herself independently, and her memory was greatly affected. My mom was her primary caregiver, which was not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. In fact the role was so taxing that my mom became severely sick, and landed up in the ICU for weeks. We weren't sure she was going to survive, since her body was in septic shock, and each of her organs were shutting down. Watching my mom care for my grandmother was an enlightening experience cognitively and emotionally, so much so, that by the time I entered graduate school, I felt inspired to research and investigate the stresses associated with caregiving for an impaired older family member. I have no doubt that my mom worries about me because she knows the the long term impact intense caregiving has had on her life.
Though 17 years may seem like a long time, it really isn't. I can recall the closeness I had with my grandmother, I can see her green eyes, pretty face, and remember many of her loving ways. What I also remember is the day she died. I was living in Boston at the time, and found out the news early in the morning. I recall waking up that morning to the sound of the telephone ringing. However, even before answering the phone, I already knew my grandmother had just died. I knew because in my dream, my grandmother and I were together. I can still vividly recall in the dream that she handed me a dozen red roses and when I reached out to take them, the roses lost ALL their petals and died. The dream was so shocking, that when I woke up I wasn't sure what startled me more.... the image of the roses dying or the actual phone ringing. Needless to say, my mom was at the other end of the receiver and she called to tell me my grandmother had died. Somehow I knew that already!
There is probably no coincidence that on some level I decided to spend the day with Ann's mom. My lifetime friend, Karen, told me about a year ago, that Mary (Ann's mom) on some level reminds me of my grandmother. When my grandmother was ill, I wasn't able to assist my mom with her care. I was in college and then graduate school on the East Coast, and my parents and grandmother were in Los Angeles. Karen jokes with me that I am trying to make up for lost time. Or time I wished I had with my grandmother when she was ill. I never paid much attention to Karen's thinking, well perhaps until today. I certainly wanted to help Ann, but I do think my time with Mary today made me reflect upon my grandmother.
Spending time in an assisted living facility is eye opening. In fact, Kristen, Mattie's oncologist and our friend, wrote a comment to us on Tuesday, that has stuck with me all week. She said she knew Peter and I as we were caring for Mattie with cancer. She did not know us as a family before Mattie got sick. However, now that she is reading the blog and understands our love and connectedness prior to cancer, it makes the memory of Mattie's battle and death much more painful. That is actually a profound comment. Because as I was sitting in the assisted living facility today, all I could think of was that every older adult there was once a young and vibrant person. They all have histories, they were all productive people in our society, and yet those who care for them sometimes forget that. I think this is such an important lesson for all of us, that we should never overlook those in front of us. They are not just older adults, patients, or clients. These are people with rich histories and lives, and this isn't hard to remember or learn about....... we just need to be willing to take the time to slow down and listen.
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