Sailing Away: Part One

 Imagine

someone who believes

in you, unconditionally....

Imagine,

someone who sings

your praises

year after year

after

year.

Imagine,

someone like that

who you can

laugh with

dream with

chat with

for hours.

Now, imagine

that very same

person

not remembering

who

you 

are.

My beautiful friend,

my confidante,

my grandma,

now 93, has been

sailing quietly

away from me

and every one else

who used to

be her world

{except, thankfully,

her daughter, my mom}

for the last several

years.

It's a pain in my

heart that is really

indescribable.

~ Old-age dementia ~

Sounds horrible, but it's

actually a sort of gentle

un-mooring from one

life, preparing for the

next.

Gigi knows that we

have some affiliation;

she's just not sure what it is.

She lives in a group home

with five other residents,

about 10 minutes from 

my parents and 1500 miles

away from me.

That distance never used to 

make a difference, but as she 
started her journey, the

anchor that kept us close

silently slipped away, too.

This summer we were together

one sunny day in a store,

with my mom and my kids.

Suddenly, she touched my

arm and said

We go together.  

She just didn't know how.

Almost every time that I

visit with Gigi, she wrinkles

her forehead in concern and

says,

I don't know whether

I'm coming or going! 

She says it in kind of a 

jokey way, like she is kidding.

{She's not kidding.}

That must be 
a strange, strange
feeling.

Unsettled.

Adrift.

My mom painted this in college and it hangs above Gigi's bed.

My mom is absolutely

the best daughter

in the world.

She sees Gigi 

many times a week.

She takes her out

to lunch, does flash

cards and bingo

with her to challenge

her mind, and once

a week, styles her hair.

You see, all the 

things that Gigi

was to me, she was

that and so much,

much

more,

to Mom.
And even though
she sees Gigi often,
she misses the real her.

My grama's life
began in 1917.  
When I think of the 
history that has
been the backdrop of

her story, I marvel

in amazement.

{She used to, too!}

Five short years ago: My son and Gigi,  memory intact.
And no, she never had any plastic surgery, just good genes!

I yearn for that

relationship that is

no more....How

she used to stay

up late with me over
 the holidays, when

the rest of the house

was quiet and

chat over a

scotch and soda

{her favorite!}

or how she would

rub my back softly

and brush the hair

away from my neck 
when I was sad

or concerned about

something and 

offer her advice.

In future posts, I want

to tell you more about

my grama ~

How she left home at

17 to join a Rockettes-

type dance troupe....

How she lived through

her little boy's experience

with polio......

How she loved Las Vegas

and once requested that her 
ashes be scattered in the 
dancing waters in front of

the Bellagio Hotel!

How she nannied 

for me and my hubby

at age 81 when our

daughter was 3 1/2 

and our son was a newborn.

Her passion for shoes!

But not yet.

Imagine someone

you love, bobbing

along in a little boat 

on the water, caught

between one shore

and the next.

It's a helpless feeling.


However, just sharing
this tale has 
lightened my spirit.
Thank you for that.

Since it's Friday, 

let's toast the weekend with 
a virtual scotch and soda

in honor of my Gigi.

She may not know
if she's coming or going,
but she is still darn sweet
and she would love
all of you.

That is one

thing that I don't

have to imagine!

xx 

Suzanne