Grandmother

Solitaire. That’s one thing I remember. She taught me to play, we played together, and on occasion, I would come into the dining room and find her playing alone. Of course she used real cards, with pretty pictures on the backs. Not the virtual version I seem to be turning to. It’s calming somehow, and numbing, too. Was it the same for her? A way to escape, and to put things in order? My Grandmother is dying. She’s been gone for a long time – dementia took her when I wasn’t looking. Actually, the loss happened when I moved away. I didn’t know to say good-bye, a real good-bye before we moved.
I keep trying to imagine what her life was like. What she thought of the costs of living, of choosing what she did. It’s easier to imagine the joy. Because I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me – at her family – and especially at Alec. Love of family. A desire to have everyone close, and to feed us. She passed those loves and passions on to me. Solitaire and large family dinners. Those seem to be discordant, but I know too well that they are not. And I am grateful.