No pictures this week. Nothing funny. Just a grandson watching his family hurt and the notes he has made on the situation at hand.
Here's the article just as it appeared originally:
As I headed home early Saturday morning for my grandmother's funeral, I found myself wrestling with what my real emotions on the whole situation were. Was I sad, mad, confused? She was old. Really old. And her health over the past 2 or 3 years was unbelievably bad. It was like somebody just hit a dimmer switch one day, and slowly Rosie began to fade. And it, as you can imagine, was really sad for me and my family.
It was really sad because Rosie was a great woman: a school teacher who drove a motorcycle, a literal "Rosie the Riveter" in WWII and above all a woman with great insight and wisdom. Words really can't do her justice, so I'll stop her story here.
Bottom line is that old people are great. They can give you guidance that stems from real life experience, counsel that is irreplaceable. But the unfortunate thing is that like Rosie, there often comes a time when your elderly family, friends and loved ones start to decline. They stop being that beacon of wisdom that you once looked up to and start becoming more of the family annoyance. They can't do things for themselves. They have to have someone drive them places. They become forgetful, sometimes extremely so. They don't make sense. They stop caring for themselves. Occasionally they become hateful and mean.
So what do you do as a caring family member? Do you move your grandparent or parent in with you? Do you move them to a nursing home? Do you sit and hope they die? Do you ignore the situation and hope it goes away?
Sometimes old people continue kicking it until they are upwards of 80 and 90 years old. They are spry and fun and sharp as a tack. And sometimes they go too soon, before anyone is anywhere near ready to say goodbye. But it seems the growing trend is for these folks to go through that unknown time period where they stop being the person you once loved and cared about so much and become more of a shell with a stranger living inside.
And when they finally do go, it becomes more of a relief than anything. Rosie wasn't really Rosie these past years. The funeral brought the final sense of closure we all were waiting for, but her true "passing on" was a few years back. And unfortunately, I feel like this period before the real death and after the person you once knew has gone can sometimes tarnish your loved one's legacy. Sure you remember the great times, but it's hard to forget the times that person forgot who you were or yelled at you for no reason or told you that you didn't know what was best for them. But I guess you just have to try to remind yourself it wasn't really them talking or just struggle to put it past you. It's hard, but it's necessary.
Hearing my family complain about what to do and how to handle these times is frustrating, but it's not unreasonable. We want our family to live forever as the people we really knew them as, and it is so hard when we realize they can't. So we deal with it in different ways, and sadly, with the complications of nursing homes and assisted living and hospice and similar facilities, we usually just get angry. It's an easy emotion. We can lash out. We don't have to show people we are hurting. We don't have to cry. But eventually the anger stops and you realize you are losing someone special and the gut-wrenching sadness kicks in, and you mourn. And you mourn for awhile. And it's sad. And not much can be said to make it better. And then one day, a fond memory is triggered whether by a song or nature or a book, and everything becomes a little better. You still miss that person, but you can smile and cherish the memories. And it is good.
Don't let the decline of your loved ones consume you with frustration as it often can. It's not an easy thing to do, but honor them by trying. The times will be hard, but remember that this too shall pass.
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