We've been having a tough time with Tommy lately. He's been really sassy and sometimes unkind (to Eli and me, not to other people and not normally to Lulu), and rather than apologizing when we tell him to stop, he says something else sassy. Of course it makes sense when one considers what we've asked of him in the past couple of months, but that doesn't make it easier to manage in the moment when I just feel like dropping him off on the side of the road and driving away.
But today he's convinced me that he's not such a bad little guy after all.
This morning, when I checked my email, I learned that my Grandma has been admitted to the hospital for the last time. She has decided that she is in too much pain to carry on in her year-long-plus fight to get back to her full, active life. And it would be impossible for anyone to tell her that her decision is wrong, because it is obviously a decision that only she can make. So it is now up to my aunts and uncle and parents to help my Grandma figure out the logistics of dying, hospice, etc. This is actually unimaginable to me -- but they excel at doing the unimaginable things required to help an ageing parent.
And I'm over here, in Oman. Right now, it feels farther than the other side of the world, somehow. I haven't lived in the same city as my Grandma since the year after I graduated from college. During that year, though, I had dinner once a week at my Grandma's house. We pretended that she was teaching me how to cook but really, she was just feeding me as she was aware that I ate Gardenburgers for dinner every other night. But this is part of another story, as I am fairly certain a post devoted to all the lovely things that my Grandma is will appear on his blog.
So when I woke up, I immediately started crying and I didn't really stop until long after I'd dropped Tommy off at school. The kids asked why I was sad, and I told them, so we talked most of the way to school, switching between two subjects: GG and what happens when you die.
When I picked him up, he gave me a big hug and said, "I know how you feel about GG." I said, "you do?" And he replied, "Yes, I saw the tears on your face." Which is as close as he can get, you know?
But today he's convinced me that he's not such a bad little guy after all.
This morning, when I checked my email, I learned that my Grandma has been admitted to the hospital for the last time. She has decided that she is in too much pain to carry on in her year-long-plus fight to get back to her full, active life. And it would be impossible for anyone to tell her that her decision is wrong, because it is obviously a decision that only she can make. So it is now up to my aunts and uncle and parents to help my Grandma figure out the logistics of dying, hospice, etc. This is actually unimaginable to me -- but they excel at doing the unimaginable things required to help an ageing parent.
And I'm over here, in Oman. Right now, it feels farther than the other side of the world, somehow. I haven't lived in the same city as my Grandma since the year after I graduated from college. During that year, though, I had dinner once a week at my Grandma's house. We pretended that she was teaching me how to cook but really, she was just feeding me as she was aware that I ate Gardenburgers for dinner every other night. But this is part of another story, as I am fairly certain a post devoted to all the lovely things that my Grandma is will appear on his blog.
So when I woke up, I immediately started crying and I didn't really stop until long after I'd dropped Tommy off at school. The kids asked why I was sad, and I told them, so we talked most of the way to school, switching between two subjects: GG and what happens when you die.
When I picked him up, he gave me a big hug and said, "I know how you feel about GG." I said, "you do?" And he replied, "Yes, I saw the tears on your face." Which is as close as he can get, you know?
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