Detox interruptus
I won’t say that I’m calling the detox off, but I will tell you that it’s on hold for now. I don’t know what it says about me, but as soon as the truth set in, I felt compelled to ‘fess up to it publicly. In some ways, I pride myself on my willpower. If I set my mind to to a detox or cleanse or whatever, I stick to it. And meticulously. Even if one tiny corner is cut, I have to go back to the beginning and start all over again. And that, friends, is the case now. Hey, Victory Lane, timing might be just right for us to do it together. Let’s talk. (At least there’s one upside…)
I haven’t really talked about this with anyone other than my parents, my brother and the LB, but my grandfather fell a while back and has been hospitalized since. Most recently, he was moved into a permanent care hospital where he will live out the remainder of his days.
While he exhibited signs of dementia prior to his accident, he was still able to remain at home, but not without a great deal of help from my mother and aunt. (His sons? That’s a different story.)
After he was delivered to the emergency by ambulance, his broken bones became the least of our worries as his ability to to keep in touch with reality took a turn for the worse. Now, it’s a crapshoot whether he’ll remember who we are if we visit or even where he is or what he’s doing.
As kids we were so lucky to have a very close relationship with our grandparents. They kept an extra bedroom for my brother and two of my cousins and I to have sleepovers and we hardly knew babysitters because they were so willing to take us whenever our folks wanted to get out or just get away from us. We loved Nannie and Grandad with all our hearts and we still do even though she passed away in September 2001.
The only house where my grandparents ever lived since they immigrated to Canada in 1954, the house where my mom grew up and that hosts so many of my childhood memories went up for sale after it was clear that he could no longer live there alone. It sold quickly and now it’s time to deal with the fact that, as a family, we need to vacate that home of 56 years of nostalgia.
Today was the first time I’ve been there since my grandfather left for whatever short jaunt he thought he was on. It was, of course, tidied up for the sale, but all of the contents of closets and dresser drawers now need to be sifted through as the date of our vacancy approaches. While it’s crossed my mind before, I never thought this day would actually come.
I met my mom there this afternoon and she and I spent hours moving from room to room unpacking, sorting and reminiscing. We looked at photos older than the both of us, we laughed about toys and books and Christmas decorations that brought forth old times. We also cried. In the midst of all the knick knacks and trinkets, we found ourselves back in the days when both of the primary residents, my grandparents, her parents, were there and were alive and were healthy. We read through notes and cards and letters that we’d both written them in different stages of our lives. We read through love letters they’d written one another when separated by time and by ocean and some written when they were together. We read letters of condolence sent to them when their son was killed tragically at the age of eight. We found mementos they’d kept from the passing of their own parents. We also saw all the birthday and anniversary celebrations, the vacations they took, the arrival of seven grandchildren, the happy time. We witnessed the passing of two whole lives in paper and souvenirs. It was beautiful, but heart wrenching.
When all was said and done, when I came home with the physical proof of some of my own memories and the love I feel for my Nannie and Grandad, and knowing I have another day of it tomorrow, seven days of detox just seemed like a drop in the pan and not the biggest deal in my world right now.
I’m going to curl up on the couch for the evening and maybe play around with my original Spirograph (circa 1976) for a while, but not before pouring myself a nice big glass of wine. There’s lots of time for detox later.
