Make Mine Marble Rye | Jacquie says | DONNE TEMPO
Make Mine Marble Rye
November/23/07 01:41 PM Filed in: Jacquie
says
I am part of the sandwich generation. I
have responsibility for my young son, age 8, and
my mother-in-law, 86 going on 87. It leaves
little in between for my husband, or for me.
I spend large parts of my life home schooling my son. Sometimes at a desk, other times out and about looking at life. I see it as a great responsibility to enter into his brain more than just math facts, but also how to live. Memories that he will keep and remember long after I am gone. Those experiences that shape who and what we are.
Then there is Julie. My husband’s mother, my son’s grandmother. She came to live with us after her husband died and she was very ill. My son was one and she was 80.
I spend my son’s infancy with her in oncologist’s office and with heart specialists. They all said she would die within a year. She didn’t and I was able to get her healthy, but we could not change who she was and that led to her eventually sitting down in a wheelchair and not getting up again. Which meant moving her to an assisted living facility, as she needed 24/7 access to care.
In June the assisted living center she moved to did not keep a careful eye on her and she dehydrated, had a stroke and we lost her. Over four thousand dollars a month was just not enough to insure her care. We thought it was.
So now, even though she is very much still alive, the "grandma" we knew is gone. We have a new grandma.
She is different. In many ways a softer, gentler version of herself, though quite a bit of the old stubbornness is returning. I am glad she has come back somewhat.
What was there just after the stroke was hard to relate to; it just made you cry.
But it is still very, very sad. Sad because she no longer has her memories. Those bits and pieces of our lives that we keep inside ourselves to pull out when we need a smile or want to remember someone we loved.
She does not remember being pregnant, or married. Her husband’s name or his death. She remembers her parents, but not that they are gone.
This is a hard time in our lives but harder for her. She knows she loves her son and grandson, but thinks that they are her brothers. And she reminds me often to tell “Jacquie” I said hello.
It all reminds me to live today. To seek out things to remember while we can. And to slow down and help my son live a bit more. Because there are certainly no guarantees about tomorrow. And there is more than one way to lose your life.
I spend large parts of my life home schooling my son. Sometimes at a desk, other times out and about looking at life. I see it as a great responsibility to enter into his brain more than just math facts, but also how to live. Memories that he will keep and remember long after I am gone. Those experiences that shape who and what we are.
Then there is Julie. My husband’s mother, my son’s grandmother. She came to live with us after her husband died and she was very ill. My son was one and she was 80.
I spend my son’s infancy with her in oncologist’s office and with heart specialists. They all said she would die within a year. She didn’t and I was able to get her healthy, but we could not change who she was and that led to her eventually sitting down in a wheelchair and not getting up again. Which meant moving her to an assisted living facility, as she needed 24/7 access to care.
In June the assisted living center she moved to did not keep a careful eye on her and she dehydrated, had a stroke and we lost her. Over four thousand dollars a month was just not enough to insure her care. We thought it was.
So now, even though she is very much still alive, the "grandma" we knew is gone. We have a new grandma.
She is different. In many ways a softer, gentler version of herself, though quite a bit of the old stubbornness is returning. I am glad she has come back somewhat.
What was there just after the stroke was hard to relate to; it just made you cry.
But it is still very, very sad. Sad because she no longer has her memories. Those bits and pieces of our lives that we keep inside ourselves to pull out when we need a smile or want to remember someone we loved.
She does not remember being pregnant, or married. Her husband’s name or his death. She remembers her parents, but not that they are gone.
This is a hard time in our lives but harder for her. She knows she loves her son and grandson, but thinks that they are her brothers. And she reminds me often to tell “Jacquie” I said hello.
It all reminds me to live today. To seek out things to remember while we can. And to slow down and help my son live a bit more. Because there are certainly no guarantees about tomorrow. And there is more than one way to lose your life.
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