Eighty Four

Today she is 84. She will have spent her birthday without any of us, it probably having gone unnoticed by the nursing home staff. I'd like to think they have some sort of celebration for her, but i doubt that. She didn't get any visits today, on her special day, as it's a Monday and everyone has work/school/commitments/newbabies to worry about.

i didn't even remember until my aunt posted a note about it on facebook.

i wish she hadn't.

i can't help but feel guilt over how i've neglected her since she's been moved there. from the time i was 11 years old and my grandfather died until she moved in June, i didn't go more than 3 or 4 days without seeing her. i spoke to her on the phone every.single.day. even on the bad days. i've visited her exactly 4 times since then.

i'd like to say it's because i'm busy. but that makes me sound selfish. i'd like to say it's because the place is a 35-4o minute drive and i can't just run there when i have a free half hour. but that makes me sound more selfish. i'd like to admit that i hate every single thing that has happened in the last six months. or even the last year. but that makes me sound immature, incapable of realizing this is a disease and this is what just happens.

i just don't like seeing her there. there, i've said it. even though she is so incredibly happy to see me, i hate it. long ago, before she was even at the home, i told myself and my family that i would stop visiting when she stopped recognizing me. i didn't want to remember her like that. the truth is i've stopped visiting now. i don't want to remember her like this either, even if she still remembers me. i visit sporadically out of a sense of obligation. and that is utterly disgusting to me.

in a lot of ways, it's like she's already dead to me. i've caught myself a few times, saying or thinking something to that extent. then i have to catch myself. she'snotdeadyet. again, it's despicable of me. i wish it weren't true but it is. i've already mourned her loss. her eventual passing will be more of a formality than anything else. i hate myself for even thinking it.

i've been compiling a folder on my computer over the past year of photos of my gram with our family. they happen to be mostly photos from important events--weddings, birthdays, baby births. happy days. i look at how beautiful she looked 4 or 5 years ago. how her eyes glazed over over the course of the photos.

my family will have a dinner and cake for her at the nursing home on sunday. i won't be here. i will already be away for break. bittersweet, missing a day with my family, possibly her last birthday. but allowing me to preserve the real birthdays -- the ones at my house or my aunts, with pizza and cake and presents and real memories.