I'm currently in my Grandmother's house in Pebble Beach. Don't get excited. It's not a fancy Pebble Beach house. It's a basic ranch that they built themselves in the 40's with a bit of help from the government and Evil Grandmother (what my Grandmother called her Mother-in-law.) My Grandmother died 20 years ago. The house hasn't really changed despite having had my Grandmother's friend and Mom's Guy living here since. The toys we played with are still in the cabinet next to the fire place. Mom's shell collection from her school project still tucked in another cabinet, albeit now heavily covered in dust and spiders and their dinner leftovers. And I'm tucked in the tiny bed in Mom's childhood bedroom with a whole host of memories- and spiders and their dinner leftovers. It's funny but not fun.
Yesterday, I cleaned out the hallway closet and found a receipt from 1996 in the pocket of one of Grandmother's coats along with a fragile tissue. Also in the closet were the TV trays she ate off when tennis was on and a parasol of my Mom's from when they were stationed in China. Oh, and a very large pissed off Black Widow who had happily been living in there for years - likely the 20 since it was last opened.
This purging of life is... depressing and difficult and downright creepy but doing it along side a woman who is very slowly losing the memories of that life... well, I thought I knew pain with Broken Ankle. This is worse.
So if I'm AWOL off and on for a bit know it's not because I don't have anything to say. It's because the words are covered in feelings too raw to form sentences. And I'm often too teary to find the funny, small moments that we/I need.
Small moments like this: my Mother is currently trying to find a doctor who will perform her colonoscopy without knocking her out. Because she wants to watch. Apparently it's very difficult to find one who will willing shove a tube up your bum while you're awake and watching and commenting as you round the 'corners' or stop for pictures.
My Mother - taking the control part of control freak to another level.
Silver lining to all this, I'm in California. And this beach, Spanish Bay, is where we took our Christmas Day walk every year. Of course, it's a lot colder and less populated on December 25 but it still doesn't suck. Forgive the sideways video. I'm on my phone with spotty internet because Grandmother's house stopped evolving when she died.