Although I tend to talk a lot, I only seem to really be able to get my own thoughts straight when I write them down.  It used to be a few sentences at a time in my notebooks in high school, then a few paragraphs at a time in a journal for a few years, and then bam... social media.  I had an online blog, a myspace account, facebook, and a severely underused twitter.

Luckily, these small scribblings have just been silly ideas, jokes, theories, and general tom-foolery most of the time.  It's actually rare for me to pour feelings onto the pages of my various outlets.  Sadly, this is going to be one of those posts.  My grandma passed away recently and I have had a hard time dealing with some of the aspects of my life with her. 

Growing up, i only had three grandparents; My father's parents, and my mother's mother.  My mother's father passed away before i was born.  My actual knowledge of my grandma's life before i was around is criminally short.  I know that she played the trumpet.  I know that she grew up in a big family during the depression.  I know that she raised two daughters, three granddaughters, and one grandson.  I know that she spent the last two decades of her life slowing loosing every piece of her personality, memory, and faculties.  I know that she died quietly, shortly after breakfast last month.  

My grandmother and I had problems.  She had no idea how to raise a boy, let alone a terrible, rambunctious, bratty asshole like me.  Granted, I was a handful, but she was also disproportionally strict and stubborn with me.  My sister got a pass, and i got punished.  Always.  It was rough.  Now, i don't want to make her seem like the enemy here.  That is not my point.  I am trying to understand how things ended up the way they are today, and i can only do so by looking back as clearly as possible.  

After I started high school, I saw less of my grandma.  It wasn't because we fought, or were avoiding each other.  I was just busier.  During those four years, my grandma began to change.  It was little things at first, things that seemed funny at the time (and honestly, still funny now).  Then it was bigger things.  Then it was obvious that she could no longer take care of herself.  She had to move in with my parents.  This happened just as i left for school the first time.  I moved out, she moved in.  She lived with my parents for about 7 years. After I left school (the first time - my educational history is a post all of its own) and moved back home, i got to see first hand the stress and emotional pain the situation was causing.  Grandma was not doing well, there was little help from my mother's sister (or if I'm being brutally honest, absolutely none).  My mother was tasked with taking care of my grandmother's every need for seven years, and i say this with no malice or ill will, it was very trying. It was a hard time for my mom, and I'm sorry that i couldn't help more.

After years of taking care of grandma, we finally decided that a care facility was the best option, not only for my grandma's well being, but the sanity of the family.  I am not try to sound callous, but taking care of a family member in that condition is draining.  It is constant, hard, emotional work.  My grandma's move to a home was good for everyone involved.  It was really hard for my mom to let go.  I know she felt at the time like she was "giving up" and that she could have done more, but honestly, she couldn't have.  

Fast forward a few years.  Gram had been in the home for another 7 years.  I visited very infrequently.  Her home was two hours away, and frankly, I cannot stand old folks homes.  It's always been something that makes me... uncomfortable is the best word.  Some people don't like spiders.  I don't like old folks homes (or hospitals for that matter).

Her condition worsened over time, and she ended up in hospice care.  She had problems even getting up to eat food.  The moments of lucidity came more infrequently, and she just began to fade in a more physical way than she previously had.  And that was it.  She just slipped away.

He services were held off for a short time because my aunt was in Africa and could not make it home right away.  We had a few weeks to grieve before we laid her ashes in the plot next to her husbands.  I have written this post on and off over the weeks since my grandmothers death.  I think what made this so hard for me was the idea of never getting to square things up... I never got to apologize, she never got a chance to defend herself from my one-sided view of our relationship, and I never got to tell her i loved her one last time.

I guess that just speaks to our fragile existences.  Everything can end so quickly.  Anything can change overnight.  Anyone can leave you forever in the blink of an eye.  I'm not trying to preach, or change anyone's minds, or say anything that hasn't already been said.  I just have to deal with the fact that I missed my chance to let grandma know that she was important to me, even though our relationship was rocky at times.  So i guess i can take that lesson with me.  Never let fear, emotions, or anger decide your actions for you.  Always act with compassion, bravery, and honesty.

-j
written 6/5/2014 to 7/2/2014

Anita Helen Moore

3/20/1923 - 6/2/2014