My Grandmother always used to tell me you could see someone's life story in their eyes. She was a very smart lady, you know. She taught me so much about life and how to treasure the small things. I visited her two weeks ago. Her mind is stolen by dementia now, and she doesn't spare a second glance at me as I come through the doors of the nursing home, she just tucks Kezzie, my aunt's little terrier I had brought to visit, in her arms, crooning "My baby, my baby."
I smile at the young woman standing by my Grandmother. "We're taking her for Christmas dinner at our house. I'll have her back in a couple of hours." The woman smiled and I pushed Gammy in her wheelchair through the front doors.
"This is my baby, you know." Gammy said sternly, looking down at Kezzie.
"I know" I smile.
"I don't know where I'm going . . . I don't know what I'm doing." Gammy said then.
"We're going over to your son's house to have Christmas dinner and open presents." I say. But she keeps repeating that phrase over and over no matter how many times I give the answer.
"I don't know where I'm going . . . I don't know what I'm doing."
And that scared me. Not that her mind was confused, or the hollow, strained tone of voice she used these days. I was used to that. I was more troubled by what she said, exactly. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm 17 and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I don't have a plan. I can't take care of myself.
Gammy had just turned 91, but I was as lost as her.
I am still scared of spiders. I hate the dark. I fell most content kicking a ball around an empty field, or writing. I'm like a child. My Dad says that Gammy is going through her "second childhood". Her mind is like that of a very young child. Sometimes her voice cracks and gets high pitched, but stays in that pitch for hours. Everybody says my grandmother and I have the same brilliant eyes. We have more in common than they think.
I wonder how lost she feels. Her brain doesn't really think about anything in full circle, and we rush her places, try to get her just living a life. Coming to soccer games, graduations, picnics. She doesn't know what is going on. I can't imagine the panic and confusion behind those eyes. Once brilliant eyes.
Although all of us aren't 91, in a wheel chair and have white hair, we all think the same thing she does "I don't know where I'm going, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm tired and sick and I don't think I want to do this anymore!"
That feeling of drowning, kind of overwhelming exhaustion. So many things ahead of us. Life . . . ahead of us, but all we want to do is lay down, close our eyes and sleep for a year or so. Just block it out for a period of time so we can feel what it is to just live care free again.
It's incredible how many hurdles we will have to jump over on our path of life. And how much sadness, pain and desolation we will feel. Those feelings that make us want to start over, just scream "I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE, OKAY?" So just stop asking.
Right now those words fit me perfectly. I'm sick of answering questions about my future, I'm sick of trying to plan all of it out on a grid. I don't know, maybe I don't wanna know.
When Gammy isn't talking to herself, she is a great listener. She can't put together what you are talking about, but she's content to sit there quietly, her pale hands folded in her lap and just listen. Who knows what is going on inside her head? At least she is silent. Silence is the best listener.
The truth is, you don't have to know. It's okay not to know. It's okay to just crawl under the covers and think about it for awhile. There is nothing wrong with taking a while to make decisions. It's your life, you don't want to screw it up.
You. Don't. Have. To. Know.
As I was driving to our house, Gammy strapped into the front seat, she suddenly said, "We're going to go have Christmas dinner."
It made me laugh. Maybe she had been listening to me after all.
Who knows.
Glitsygrl
