i remember when coffee was a battleground.
i’ve written about it here a few times. of any and everything else, grandmother must have her coffee or else, Katy bar the door. it’s still that way, but the explosion is different. before when there was no coffee, she fought. she screamed and raged and threw things. now, she settles into anxiety, asks for is on constant repeat and eventually retreats to her room to cry. you...
my grandmother mourns everyday.
she sometimes seems to be more frown than smile. of her reasons to frown, most popular is confusion. the day of the week, the time of day, the person sitting on her couch. who is that? who? i can’t remember, baby. i’m sorry. if you know where to look, you catch the weary sadness that blinks fast across her face before she sends in the heavy artillery—sharp, beaming smiles lobbed like...
my grandmother isn't afraid of anything.
i can’t think of a single thing she’s afraid of. seriously and literally. i’m not exaggerating even a little bit. well, i guess these days, she’s afraid of being alone—she gets anxious when anyone stands from their seat and obsessively asks “where you goin?” when they move to exit a room she’s in.but that’s not her though. that’s...
once, when i wrote far more often than i do now, i wrote a series of three prose pieces about 3 different pictures from our old photo albums. one of those pictures was of my grandmother and her husband, my grandfather. i don’t have the picture to upload right now, but i want to share the piece that was written of it; maybe i’ll do this with some other pictures, too: ...
ntozakelundy asked: Your blog is super cute, I found you on Huff Post. I was drawn to it because it looks so awesome, but when reading, I was floored that we have so much in common. I probably don't have as much writing under my belt as you do, but I write. Also, I am caring for my mom, who has early onset dementia. She is incredibly healthy, not yet 65,actually a college writing professor until this past...
so, things are okay.
and by okay, i mean we’re in a state of stasis, locked into routine. same schedule. same places. same frustrations. we’re holding steady, but we’re holding in a very stressful place. but, it’s better than backsliding. we complain, but stay thankful. …but we do complain. since my last entry, i moved out of the house i grew up in with my mother and grandmother....
dabeatnik asked: I just want to say I love this blog, my grandmother passed away due to alzheimer's when I was 12 and I never had the chance to connect with her on a more mature level, and seeing this makes me know tumblr isn't all about white girls posting porn gif's and trolls asking rude questions anon. You should have 1,000,000 followers, or maybe you shouldn't ;-D
my grandmother has always said grace at each of...
baletrask asked: i know it's been a while since you last posted, so i don't know your current situation. i just wanted to say that your stories are heartbreaking and beautiful. i went through pretty much the same thing a few years ago, (thankfully my gran improved and can take care of herself now), but it's still a lot to take on and digest. you're brave & strong for doing your part to take...
prayer to whomever is listening.
help us remember to be thankful for where we are and what we have fill our hearts with enough love and compassion to push ourselves out of the bigger picture forgive us our humanity when we get angry and yell and scream and slam doors when we can’t find the patience we need when we choose not to look for it when we’re fresh out of strength remind us that it is woven into our struggle...
i wanted to take a quick moment to thank any and everyone who happens to follow this tumblr. i haven’t blogged/journaled personally in a very, very long time, and it’s not easy to be so naked in front of perfect strangers. this particular project is especially hard, as it involves confronting some pretty uncomfortable feelings and emotions. but, it helps. it helps that the words...
i want my grandmother to put her teeth in.
she has been without them nearly all day. i gave her dentures to her at lunch time this afternoon so that she could eat the tuna sandwich and handful of cheez-its she had (which she turned her nose up at, of course, but ate anyway). after lunch, she retired to her room, and when i saw her again at around 5, she was toothless again. four and a half hours later she emerges again for something...
This morning hasn't been the best.
(an old entry from a few months ago) —————- As deep as I’m sleeping in the midst of the rain drumming a lullaby on the roof outside, I manage to hear the little footsteps take to the stairs leading to my room. It’s my youngest niece, 6 years old, 7 this summer. I roll my eyes beneath my lids and take a deep breath, stockpiling the patience I’ll need when I’m asked...
whiskey & weathermen. (fiction)
(note: this isn’t a true story, but another imagining; a fictional story based on my grandmother & her life. my actual granny doesn’t drink.) ———————————- I know you ‘posed to thank God ever morning and be happy He woke you up, and I am, but sometime I won’t mind if He didn’t. I’m old....
my mother's birthday was a few days ago.
my brother sent her flowers and chocolate, while i went downtown to buy her a bottle of her favorite gin. my mother gave me a ride home from all my errand running after she went to pick up my grandmother, her mother, who is 84 and very, very forgetful. “tootsie,” i said (this is what we call my grandmother), “did you wish the birthday girl a happy day?” she put her hand on her cheek and ...
(note: i spend most of my time wondering what my grandmother is thinking. when she sits nodding her head to music i can’t hear, when she seems to tune us out and not hear us talking to her. when i ask, she either can’t tell me or she won’t, and when my curiosity won’t let me be, i imagine where she may have gone and write it down. none of the names are real. the...
a bit of background.
this blog, as the uncreative, unimaginative title suggests, is where i will come to tell random stories, write random prose, and post random pictures of my grandmother. she’s pretty much all i can write about these days without having an aneurysm in the process, and i’ve been wanting to tell her—our—story for quite some time now. as far as who i am, i’m just another...