Grandma's Girl.

Something that I wrote a few years back. I miss her.



Through sliding glass doors I enter a familiar lobby, and turning the corner I'm met with a sea of silver people. I smile as I pass their kind eyes, I know them all by name, by voice, by spirit. They don't know me, but they will, until I'm forgotten once again. Joe tells me about his fishing trip, and from what I can tell it was forty years ago, but to him it was yesterday afternoon. I compliment Joanne's baby doll, she beams with pride, because in her mind that bit of plastic and cloth is her son, the love of her life. Bessy's eyes light up when I pick up some stray puzzle pieces that escaped her shaking hands. I'm making small talk when suddenly, a raven haired beauty among a white forest catches my eye. That's her, that's my Grandmother. She is looking around her. Desperately searching for something, anything familiar. She doesn't know where she is. It's all I have not to sprint to her, but today I see no tears, so I walk. Her eyes look up at me, eyes that are my own, and there it is, the same sweet smile that has healed my heart countless times, as perfect as its ever been. I wheel her back to her room. I listen as she tells me stories of when she was a little girl, stories I've heard over and over again, stories that make me feel safe. Sometimes she gets scared, she knows she has seven children, but she doesn't know they're all grown up. She cries in desperation, thinking her babies are home alone. I sing for her, she strokes my hair and tells me what a good girl I am. I often catch her staring at me through those giant round glasses with the biggest sparkle in her eye, it's then I'm reassured she knows me, knows I am hers. I flash back to many years ago when she first started losing her memory, when she knew what was happening. She was scared, and always so ashamed and apologetic when she forgot something. She was afraid to forget, not fear for herself, but because it would hurt her loved ones to witness that kind of change. See, Grandma is one of those women who always puts the people she loves first. I tell her I don't mind if she forgets my favorite color, or even what year it is, but I can't help but plead that she always remember me. She promised me that, a promise I wanted to believe, but realistically could not. I should have known better than to ask for such a favor, but I also should have known better than to lose faith. Her voice interrupts my flashback, "Jessy you're beautiful", I let out a sigh of relief, she still knows me, I've never heard such beauty in my name as when its out of her mouth, out of her memory. I smile and say right back, "I get it from my Grandma" She laughs, and agrees. I stand up briskly and tell her I have to use the bathroom. As soon as my face is out of her sight I lose it. Tears stream down my face with a silence that crushes the heart. I breath deep, wipe the mascara trails off my blushed cheeks and walk back to her. My Mother is curling her hair, I see a Mother's love radiate between them. In her forties, but she's still Grandma's baby girl. I sit on the bed and play around with the blankets, quietly savoring the moment, being in the presence of the two most important women of my life. Hours seem like minutes passing by and soon it's time for the nurses to put Grandma to bed. I watch as a dedicated daughter tucks her Mother in, just as years ago her Mother did for her. A beautiful sad cycle. I tell my Grandma how much I love her, I always hear it back. Then my Mom and I sit next to the bed, Grandma doesn't want us to leave, so we wait in the dim light of her favorite angel lamp until she is asleep. I lean over and kiss her goodnight. Making my own promise, that I'll be back again tomorrow.