Well, today is the day before I go home.  I’ve been watching my parent’s house and dogs for the last two weeks.  It’s been very hard to be away from home for this long.  Don’t get me wrong.  The first 4 or 5 days were really nice.  No one yapping at me, except the dogs.  No one expecting anything from me.

And the rarest treat of all was that I got to spend two weeks visiting with my grandmother. Mommom is 97.  And I love her so much.  There aren’t words to describe what this woman has meant to me through my life.  And, I’m 46.  Most people don’t have grandparents around this late in life, and Poppop just passed away last year.

But her memory is shot.  And, hey, she’s 97.  She’s got a lot of stuff stored in that noggin of hers and I don’t wonder why she’s having a hard time remembering things.  But, it was a shock that I’ve been to see her every other day for 2 weeks and she only remembers today and the day before yesterday when I brought the dog.  But, tomorrow she may remember it all.

I want to tell her things.  I want to talk to her about my bipolar and my anxiety, but I can’t. It’s my turn to be there for her.  So, when I had to leave her little apartment in assisted living today, it was almost as hard as when I moved away 4 years ago.  She likes her clothing baggy and the tight hug I gave her let me feel her bones.  We told each other over and over again that we loved each other, would miss each other and I promised I would keep in touch.  And I will.

I went to the car and started to cry as I drove away.  I don’t know when I will see her next.  I hope I get to see her again before she goes on to see Poppop again.

I hate myself in pictures, but when your grandmother is that old, you stop worrying about how you look and just be happy to get another picture with her.