How did you guess?

I don't know how much longer my grandmother will be imprisoned within the world of her deafness.

I don't know whether my uncle truly hopes, in his heart of hearts, that she'll hang on as long as possible. I don't know whether my father truly hopes, in his heart of hearts, that she will die soon. Or whether the motives are selfish or selfless in either case.

I do know that I'm caught in multiple paradoxes when I come up here: gratitude for the amazing care my grandmother receives in her last years, and that it is delivered by her son and daughter-in-law, rather than "staffers" at a "home." Gratitude that her own longevity may suggest I'll be around—with a sharp mind—for a long time to come. Gratitude for any pleasure she gets these days, and a hope that it's worth it, despite the isolation her deafness causes. Smug satisfaction that as an internet junkie I'll be able to communicate with others just fine view text messaging, email and the like--even if I can no longer hear.

A feeling that I will end up owing my uncle and aunt some sort of debt that I shall never be able to repay.

I would like to get up to the Pismo Beach Area once a month, but lately it's been more like every three months. I shall just have to do my best.

The bitchin' things:

1) getting to know my uncle much better than I ever did when I was a kid, and connecting on some level with his loyal and courageous bride;

2) the pretty drive up the coast;

3) Having my grandmother tell me things that she never told me when I was young. She is being very honest, lately—very real. At least, she was when we could communicate in two directions.

4) The enforced isolation at night here at the Oxford Inn and Suites (less so when there are other family members lurking in the same complex).

"Take the sweet with the sour, if you take me."

—W. B. Yeats

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:46 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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