I've come to the conclusion that while growing older sucks, it definitely sucks more to watch those you love grow older. I was admittedly taken back two weeks ago when my aunt posted a picture of my grandma from her 90th bday just two years ago. Having the privilege of living next door, I see her often so the physical change two years has had on her body had escaped me somehow. Maybe it's that whole glass is half full thing or maybe it's denial - either way I just hadn't noticed.
By now, word has pretty much gotten around that the dreaded diagnosis of breast cancer once again rocked our family in February, only two years after the nothing short of miraculous hip replacement recovery at 90yrs old. Yet still, through the tears and the inevitable outcome, there has been a joy that could never be expressed through any words I could type. A myriad of emotions have been my best friend as of late but never once have they not been accompanied by that joy thing.
Most of my day today was spent waiting. Waiting on a phone call. Waiting on a text. Waiting to lace up my shoes and come running. Finally, around 5, the phone call came. Mom needed my help.
Sure it was only to sit with grandma for a short time, but it was something I could do. Today was not a good day for grandma so sitting and talking with her while momma ran home to take care of a few things was the least I could do for both of them.
So we talked. She wanted to hear all about the family vacation last week and asked about friends. She reminded me to tell my husband how much I love and appreciate him. (She says that allllllll the time.) We talked about how she was feeling and how very tired she is. The conversation finally steered toward her favorite topic - how much God loves each of us.
Then momma returned after a while. Now I would be able to help physically as we lifted her out of her chair to escort her to her bed. I stepped away a few times, being aware of the great level of humility this caused this giant of a 5' woman in my eyes to suffer. When we finally reached the bed, a scene unfolded that will be seared into my memory forever.
The once firecracker red head in front of me was now leaning on her daughter repeating the words, "Don't drop me. Please don't let me fall." with a fear in her voice I had never heard before. Before I could be overwhelmed by those pesky emotions again, there was a glimpse of something very special happening.
As momma was trying to pivot grandma around to sit on the bed, she leaned her head on momma's shoulder. Blame it on that glass half full thing but what I saw in that moment was not despair and fear; it was a moment in which I got to see my momma dance with her frail 92yr old momma. I heard the promises, "I won't drop you. I'm right here." I stood there, arms open wide, waiting to join their dance, but it was not my turn. There wasn't any music, no fancy ball gowns, not even an audience, but there was a tender dance born from the deepest love that can be given. And I got to watch.
Part of me thinks it would be so easy to just stop looking for things to be thankful for in the middle of this. And admittedly, I did a few moments later when I asked grandma how she was doing and her response was, "I'm here." Alone with her and sitting on her bed, I melted into a puddle of sobbing tears as she laid my head on her chest and I squeaked, "I'm so selfish but this is where I want you to stay." She just held me and whispered in my ear how much she loved me over and over again.
Watching those you love grow older SUCKS! But I'm determined to keep looking for those subtle, hidden moments when a dance breaks outright in front of me. Those are moments of utter gratitude and joy.
:)
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