Taking Grandma Home
By M. Bradley McCauley
© All Rights Reserved. 2014
Grandma:
I roll onto my back, eyes closed, not needing to open them to look at the clock. I know it is around 5:30. I've been waking up at that time for as long as I can remember. Remember, a significant word in my life right now. So much I have to remember and some I wish I could forget.
As usual, my first thought in the morning is what day is it. I think about what I did yesterday or what I watched on TV last night. Oh yes, it was that sappy prime time soap opera my daughter Marla was watching. It must be Monday. The show is on Sunday, 8:00 eastern, 7:00 central. I smile, remembering my five-year-old grandson Jamie announcing a show he wanted to watch was on at 5:00 eastern, 4:00 central. He didn't have a clue what it meant but that's what was said on the commercial.
Is Jamie really a Senior in college? Where did those years go? I miss him. I sorrowfully miss his older brother, Anthony who died in Iraq. He was my oldest grandson, the apple of my eye, as the saying goes. He was a hero. They said he saved four men in his unit. I wasn't surprised. That's the kind of guy he was.
I stretch and open my eyes. Dawn has broken. I finally look at the clock. It's 5:45, too early to get up. If I were at my home, I'd be up drinking my first cup of coffee by now. But I'm not home. It's Memorial Weekend. I'm at my daughter Marla’s. The town is having a special Memorial Day ceremony, and they will be honoring Anthony. I think she said they would be placing a plaque at the Little League baseball field. He not only had been a player in his youth but a coach before his Reserve unit was called up.
I lie there wishing I had coffee, but it's too early to start roaming around the house, I might wake someone. Heaven forbid I should wake someone.
I sit up, reach for my glasses on the night table and the book I'd been reading last night to help me get to sleep. I don't sleep much anymore. I don't remember ever sleeping much in my adult life. Not in college nor when the kids were growing up. Maybe I slept a bit more after they moved out for a year or two before Ted died. I miss him too. How long ago was that? Eight years; maybe nine. I'm not sure. Seems I always have to relate time to an event. When we married; when each of the three kids was born; when Ted had the affair; when I went into rehab. Time, events. Time, events. Memories all related to time and events.
A toilet is flushed. Good, someone is up. I roll my head releasing the ache in my neck. I scrunch my shoulders. I don't hop out of bed anymore. I have a ritual. Release the tension in the muscles, slowly put two feet on the floor, bend forward and imagine the spine unfolding. I have to get back into the Tai Chi class. It helps ease the tightness.
“Come on, Grandma,” I say to myself, “get up! Move it!”
I hear a phone ringing. Who in the world is calling this early in the morning? I glance at the clock. That can't be! How did it jump to 7:15? It was 5:30 ten minutes ago. I must have dozed off.
"Mom! Are you awake?" It's Marla.
"Yes." I reach for my robe, stand, take hold of the dresser and slip my feet into my slippers.
"I have to leave for about an hour. Coffee's ready. I'll fix breakfast when I get back."
"Okay."
I hear the front door close and take my time in the bathroom. A hot shower relaxes the muscles. I avoid looking in the mirror over the sink. I don't like the face that looks back at me, especially in the morning before coffee, a shower, and makeup.
I talk to myself. I like to call it “thinking out loud.” Sometimes I even answer myself, but I don't do that too often. At least I don't think I do.
In the kitchen I pour coffee, look out the window and see the swing set still there even though Anthony and Jamie haven't used it in years. I guess Marla is keeping it for future grand kids. I'm not sure she'll have them. Sometimes I think Jamie is gay, but I'm not sure. I'm not as sure about a lot of things now as I used to be.
I like Marla's kitchen. It is casual elegance. The old oak table was my mother's; an antique desk sits in an alcove with a laptop computer on top. Pine cabinets flank stainless steel appliances. The cabinets remind me of the house on the lake, but I don't want to remember the house on the lake. It's one of those memories I don't want in the time I have left.
The phone rings. I start to answer and remember I'm not at home; I'm at Marla's. The machine will get it. After the beep I hear Jamie's voice. "Hey, Mom, my plane's delayed. I don't know if Kip and I can get there in time for the ceremony. I'll call when we leave. Love you."
Kip. Hmm. I wonder who Kip is. Should I ask Marla, or will she think I'm prying? I'm never quite sure what I can ask her. Sometimes she's free and open and sometimes she tightens up with her lips pursed like a little old, up-tight lady. My aunt Clara was the poster lady for uptight old ladies. Her face always seemed pinched in a frown. Granny glasses perched on the end of her nose, squinty eyes. Granny glasses are back in vogue. They weren't when I got my first ones in my forties.
My forties. I start to remember when the phone rings again. I pour another cup of coffee. "Hey, mom, it's me, Marla. I ran into some problems and won't get back to fix breakfast. Help yourself to the rolls or cereal," she hesitates then continues, "Mom, do me a favor. Don't use the stove, okay?"
Don't use the stove! What's the matter? Is it broken? Why can't I use the stove? Oh well, I don't feel like having a big breakfast anyway. Two pecan rolls are enough. Maybe I can help clean up a bit for the party after the ceremony. I'm not sure how many people she invited. I know she is having it catered and of course there isn't much cleaning up to do. She had a cleaning team come in yesterday. Something they call “merry maids,” I think. I giggle, remembering the “Merry Maids of Windsor," and my dear friend Shakespeare. Not that he was a real friend, but a friend in some of the lonely times of my teen years. More memories that I'd like to erase.
My back hurts. I've been sitting too long. I stand, holding onto the table for support and pick up my cup and saucer. The cup rattles as I move towards the sink, passing the stainless steel eight burner stove. I hope it isn't broken. That would not be helpful with the party. I'm sure the caterers will need the stove. Maybe I should test it. Turn it on. It's a gas stove I think.
The phone rings again. I put the cup and saucer into the dishwasher. I wonder if they should go into the dishwasher. They were my mother's ever so delicate, only used for company porcelain china. My mother didn't leave them to me. She skipped me and willed them to Marla. She liked Marla. I don't think she ever really liked me. I was too much like my father, and she certainly didn't like him. They only got married because she was pregnant. Sometimes I think that's why she didn't like me. "But for that one stupid mistake," she would say, "I could have been a movie star." I was that stupid mistake.
But Daddy loved me. That made her mad. He spent more of his limited spare time with me than with her. At least when he wasn't hanging out with his barroom buddies down at Jimmy's Pub. Sometimes he took me with him. I remember how the thick smoke used to burn my eyes, but I loved the smell of the booze. It reminded me of him. I wonder if that's why I became an alcoholic. I started drinking pretty heavily after he died and Ted's affair.
Who was that on the phone? I wasn't listening. I could check but the last time I did that I accidentally deleted the call and Marla wasn't happy. She tried to act as if it didn't bother her, but I knew it did. She had that “Aunt Clara, little old up-tight lady” look and of course she heaved a big sigh. I make her sigh a lot. Most of the time I don't know why. I wish I could go home. I feel like I've been here a long time. I don't remember when I came. Isn't that funny? I can remember going to Jimmy's Pub with Dad, but I don't remember when I came to Marla's. I think I came for the weekend, but it seems a lot longer than that.
//////////
Marla:
Damn! Damn! Damn! I've got to get out of this mess. I should never have left mom alone this long. Shit. I didn't think a simple errand would take so long. Of course Jess isn't available to go home and be with her. He's never around when I need him. Bet he's on the golf course or... no, I won't go there. He said it was over between him and Carla, the bitch. Damn. Where's my cell phone? I can't believe I left the house without my cell phone.
No tears. Not now. There's too much to be done. Oh, Lord, how am I going to get through the ceremony? Why did I agree to them honoring Anthony? Oh, God, I miss him. Losing him hurts so much. Losing a child is the most awful pain in the world. Why doesn't the grief counseling help?
What's mom doing? Why didn't she answer the phone when I called her? Surely she heard it was me on the answering machine. I pray she didn't turn on the stove. Why didn't I bring her with me? No, it wouldn't have been a good idea to bring her to Kent's, the new attorney who will be filing divorce papers against Jess. Not a good idea at all. She would give me that, "are you sure you're doing the right thing” look. I don't need that, especially today.
//////////
Grandma:
Marla's been gone longer than an hour. I wonder if she's okay. She is hardly ever gone very long except sometimes when she leaves her friend Allison here visiting me. I like Allison. She doesn't treat me like an old lady. She honestly seems interested in what I have to say about things. Unlike Marla, she doesn't just shake her head and pretend she's listening. She even asks me questions and sometimes even asks my advice. Marla never asks my advice. She gets annoyed when I offer it, so I try not to say too much anymore. Sometimes it's hard.
I'm getting hungry. Maybe I can fix something for lunch and surprise Marla. I could fix one of my homemade soups. She used to like my soups, especially vegetable soup. Now she doesn't seem to like anything I fix. She doesn't let me cook at all anymore. Well, she isn't home now. I can do anything I want.
Let's see what's in the refrigerator. I don't like the stainless steel things. I think they are ugly, but I don't dare tell Marla what I think. Ah, the crisper is full of veggies. I love carrots and broccoli. I wish I could still eat them raw, dipped in ranch dressing but these dumb dentures don't work that well. I'll just scrape the carrots, chop the peppers and celery, and put them all in a big pot with some beef broth I saw in the cupboard.
"Ohh." I grab hold of the refrigerator door. Where did that pain come from? Oh my. I haven't had one of those in a long time. Did I take my medicine today? Where is my medicine? Oh, there, on the island. Let me see, what day is it? Tuesday? No, Monday. Yes, it's Monday, Memorial Day. I didn't take the pills; the Monday slot is still full. I better take them before Marla comes home. She would be mad if she saw I didn't take them. Not mad, disappointed. That's what she always says when I think she's mad. "No, Mother! I'm not mad, I'm disappointed." That's how I know she's mad. She always calls me Mother when she's mad.
Okay, so now I just need to get some water, take the pills, and oh yes, Marla said I should be sure to put them away where little kids who are coming to the party can't get them. It's not the little kids she should worry about, it's the older ones. I saw a show on TV where kids have those “pharm parties,” and they bring all sorts of prescription drugs from home, throw them in a big bowl and then grab hands full and take them. Don’t know what this younger generation is coming to. I’m sure no good.
We didn't have anything like that when I was a teenager. Just booze, good old-fashioned booze. No pot, no whatever those sex drugs are, I think I heard someone say ecstasy but who knows. Ecstasy was something else when I was young, and we didn't get it with a pill.
Now what was I going to do? I don’t remember. Oh dear, how can I forget so easily? What was I going to do? Oh yes, fix some soup. I can heat some of that canned soup in the pantry. Marla said I could heat it in the microwave. I don’t like to do that. I prefer soup warmed slowly on the stove. But first I have to take the pills, and then I can heat some soup. There’s the phone ringing again. I've got to go to the bathroom. I’ll just let the machine get it.
///////////
Marla
One more stop and I can get home. I'll use the phone at the florist. Why didn't I have the flowers delivered? Wonder if Jamie is home yet. And who is Kip? Why is he bringing someone home without even telling us who she is? Or is it a he? Maybe it's one of his guy friends. He has so many of them.
"Ernie, hi, do you mind if I use your phone while you put the flowers in my van? I've got to call home."
"No, Marla, go right ahead. Where's your mother? Isn't she with you?"
"Not today. I have so much to do before the ceremony this afternoon but it's taking longer than I thought."
"Why don't you just let me deliver them for you? I'd enjoy having a cup of coffee with your mother. She's got so many good stories from the old days. I remember one time she was telling me about..."
"I'm sorry Ernie, I've really got to run, mom didn't answer the phone and I've got to check on her. Thank you for offering to deliver the flowers. You'll be at the ceremony and the party won't you?"
"Sure wouldn't miss it. Anthony was a good kid. He and my Wally were best friends."
I'm rushing to the van and I probably hurt Ernie's feeling for dashing off like that, but I've really got to get home, and I couldn't listen to him talking about Anthony and Wally. How am I ever going to get through this day? I thought the military funeral was the worst; surely this can’t be as heartbreaking as that was. Oh lord, just help me get through it, and please, let mother be all right. Why didn't she answer the phone?
///////////
Grandma:
I'm really getting worried about Marla. What time is it? My, nearly 11:30, that's a long hour. What time is the Memorial Day ceremony? I think she said 3:00, and then the party is at 5:00. I think I'd better take a nap. It's going to be a long tiring day. I wonder if Anthony will enjoy it. He likes parades. He probably will wear his uniform. He looks so handsome in it. I bet he needs me to press it for him. I'll knock on his door when I go up for a nap.
The garage door is opening. Thank goodness, Marla is back. But it's not Marla, it's Jess, my son in law. I wonder what he's doing home. Was he at work? No, it's a holiday. Memorial Day I think,or is it Labor Day?
"Hey, Grandma. You have any idea where Marla is? I've been calling her cell all morning to see if she needs me to do anything to get ready for the party.
"No. She said she was going to run an errand and be back in an hour. I'm getting worried."
"Grandma, no getting worried. You know how Marla is. She probably decided to get a manicure or do some last minute shopping. I'll bet she'll be home any minute. You just relax. Remember the Doctor says you shouldn't get stressed over things. I'm going to take a shower." He had that patronizing tone again. Sometimes he talks to me as if I'm a child. I know he means well, but it is irritating. Now what was I going to do before he came in? Oh, yes take a nap and check to see if Anthony needs his Army uniform pressed. Oh dear, I forgot, Anthony isn't here anymore. He died somewhere in Iraq. I miss him. He was my love. I mustn't think about it. I have to remember what Dr. Walters said about getting stressed. At my age the heart doesn't handle stress very well. “At my age.” Doesn't he know I'm part of the new 50s, or is it 60s? It doesn't matter; I'm not as old as they try to make me out to be.
Climbing the stairs is getting a little bit harder. Marla says they might build a “mother in law” wing onto the house so I don't have to climb stairs. Why would she do that? I'll be going home in a day or two.
Who is that at the top of the stairs? Oh, it's Anthony. "Hello, sweetheart, did I wake you? Do you need your uniform pressed? You always look so handsome in your uniform."
Where did he go? I saw him just a minute ago at the top of the stairs. It's not like him to just walk away. Anthony and I have a special bond. We are very close. I babysat him while Marla worked in the early days of their marriage. Then Jess got lucky, found a partner, and she didn't need me to watch Anthony anymore. It's sad not to be needed.
There goes the garage door again. It must be Marla. I'm going to go lie down before she can come and find something I did that was wrong. I wish Marla would see me as the woman I used to be. I was special to her when she was little, now I'm a nuisance. I get in the way. She tries not to let me see how exasperated she gets. I'd better hurry before she comes in. Can't hurry like I used to.
///////////
Marla:
"Jess, you're here. Thank God. I've been so worried about Mother being alone. Where is she?"
"I don't know. I was in the shower. She was here a few minutes ago."
"Oh, God! Oh, damn! What if she went somewhere? You know how confused she gets. I've got to find her."
"Marla! Calm down. She was here less than a half hour ago when I got home."
"Where were you? I tried calling you from the lawyer's office."
"I was playing golf. I just did nine holes. Why were you at the lawyer's office?"
"It's not important. I've got to find mother."
"Marla. It is important. Why would you go see Alex without telling me?"
I didn't go to see Alex. Please Jess, not now. After the ceremony and the party. We'll talk."
//////////
Grandma:
I don't remember much of the ceremony. They had a huge picture of Anthony in his uniform over the stage they had put up in the town square. And they also had a video of his growing up years on a screen at the back of the stage. I was on several of the pictures, playing with him. I always loved playing with the kids; it was my best time 'cause I could be a kid again.
I remember now, Jamie was there, but I didn't see his friend Kip. Still don't know if it's a girl or boy. I guess it doesn't matter. It would have been different in my younger days. It would have mattered then but not to me. I was always called a progressive thinker. That's funny. What made them think I was a thinker at all? I seem to do more thinking now than ever before. What else can I do? Marla won't let me cook, or drive, or even go for a walk alone. Lately she's been bolting the doors with one of those key-opening locks, and she didn't give me a key. I'll be so glad to go home where I can do what I want.
I remember the party. It was a success the way Marla’s parties are always successful. As she moved around from guest to guest being the ideal hostess, she stopped by the chair where I was sitting observing.
"Mom, did you enjoy the ceremony?"
I must have been on her good side. She called me mom.
"Yes, I did. Anthony looked so handsome in his uniform. I wonder why he didn't come over and give me a hug. Anthony always hugs me and tells me I'm his girl."
Marla sighs, tears form, but she wipes them away before anyone would notice.
"Mom, you know Anthony is gone. He can't hug you.”
I wish she wouldn't remind me that Anthony is gone. If he is, why did I see him at the top of the stairs?
I finally had enough of the party. I'm feeling tired and except for Allison, no one has talked to me for a while. I think I can sneak off and take another nap.
I think maybe if I go back to my house soon Marla and I will get along better. I wonder if Jess will take me home or maybe Jamie and his friend Kip. Last time I asked Marla, she got all upset and told me they sold the house and I was to live with them now. That's silly. Why would they sell my house?
"Mom, where are you going?"
"I'm tired, dear. I thought I'd go up and take a nap. You don't think I'm being rude do you?"
"No, mom," she kisses me on the cheek. "Everyone will understand. Do you want me to come up with you?"
"No. It's your party. They would miss you."
"Maybe later we can go for ice cream if you aren't still tired. Remember when you used to take me for ice cream when I was little?"
I smile and nod my head. Tears come again. I didn't think she ever remembered me when I was younger and did things with her.
"I'll come up and check on you in a little while. I hope the noise doesn't keep you awake. I want you fresh when we go for ice cream." She kisses me on the cheek and goes back to her guests.
I grab the banister; take a deep breath as a muscle cramp slams into my chest. Ow. That hurts. Maybe I should have let Marla come up with me. I wish it would go away, but it’s getting worse.
"Grandma, you're not leaving the party are you?"
It's Jamie. I can't let him see me so uncomfortable. Jamie never sees me as old.
"I'm going to take a nap. I'll be back in a little bit."
"Grandma. You okay? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine, sweetie. Just tired. You go back to your girlfriend and the party."
"Grandma, she's not my girlfriend. She's my special friend's sister. He couldn't come so I brought her. She's going to help me break the news to mom and dad. You've always known haven't you?"
I smile even though the pain is getting worse. I’m gripping the banister. "Yes, Jamie, I've known for a long time."
He hugs me. "See you in a little bit. Thanks, Grandma, for always being here for me."
The steps are harder to take. I'm so glad I make it to the bed. Oh, I can breathe a little better now.
"Anthony. You came back. I knew I saw you earlier today on the stairs and at the ceremony. I knew you weren't gone."
"I'm here, Grandma."
"I'm so glad. I miss you, Anthony."
"I've missed you too but not anymore. We're going to be together now. I came to take you with me."
"I know, Anthony. I think I knew that when I saw you at the top of the stairs. Thanks for letting me go to your ceremony. It was lovely. Are you going to take me back to my house?"
"No, Grandma. I'm here to take you home with me."
The End
©2014 M. Bradley McCauley,
All rights reserved.
Short stories written between age 68 an 88 by an old guy with lots of imagination
Short stories to be read aloud by care givers to those they are giving love.
This is a wonderful book written by a friend of mine, Rose Lamatt about being the care giver to a loved one with Alzheimer's
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