How is my grandmother alive? I mean really it must be willpower. Can your mind make the body last longer? I don’t know if she should be alive. I feel horrible, because in my quiet moment I wished her dead. Was it so that I could quit this incessant worrying, or to relieve my mother of the concern? But if my mother’s relived then she’ll have more time for me. Am I that selfish? Do I really wish for another’s life to end so that I can have attention? In my mind she’s already gone and dead. Her spirit isn’t here anymore. What happens with dementia, that horrible disease, is it God telling the body it’s time to go?
What am I going to do without knowing that there is a person in the world I admire. I truly admire my grandmother. Her strength and conviction and humor are things I can only strive for, but never achieve. Why do I keep making this about me? I don’t know if she was even conscious of doing so, but I think of that moment as a definitive moment. She somehow just looked at me, and I was pierced. I only knew this feeling previously through the description of others. But it is truly terrifying and wonderful. She understood me with one glance and one pointed question. I’m not sure if my mom even caught it. She just asked me how I was. It was the first time anyone asked me that and I felt like they meant it. Usually people ask me that as a passing, sideways, bored, in-the-rut of mundane, chatter-topic of conversation. She knew to ask, I think that’s what’s important to me. She recognized that I felt neglected. Did she do that on purpose, or did she just ask to be kind? Why am I still thinking about the veracity of a mind that can’t remember where it hurts?