I am not my past nor does it make a difference in my present…
In order for me to grow to new heights I am always challenge myself to do more or something different to learn and flourish. I started this site to share my life and I haven’t done so. I have been too afraid to share everything I have been going through…
I deleted my last two posts because it was not fair to share those entries without explaining. So I have pledged to revamp this site as my live journal…and more.
For years I have kept a journal writing down day to day experiences and now I shall share them here. Vulnerable, aggressive, passionate, emotional, honest, travel, music, authorship, vulgar at times and some explicit entries…this is what you should expect.
I want my story to help another, to share happy moments, or having someone sit and read an entry that gives them perspective, aid in calming another for similar experiences, common passions or some humorous shit. I want to share all with you, it’s only right I write about Me.
The last two years, to the day, I have become my grandmother’s caretaker after she suffered a stroke, to which she recovered miraculously for being eighty-nine years old when it overcame her. She succeeded in her rehabilitation and had been doing really well. As old age takes a hold of even the strongest of bodies, she has weakened quite a bit in the last four months which weighs heavy on my shoulders…daily. I have been very close to my grandmother since I was a little one, I have seen her almost every day of my life for numerous reasons, so seeing her in a declining state is painful, emotional and strength building.
December 2015 she shared with my mother that she had been seeing a little girl appear in her living room laying under the Christmas tree admiring the holiday lights. My grandmother, June, had not wanted to tell me, she is fully aware that I have the say so, or call, to make any health changes to better her quality of life…she was in fear of telling me. I totally understood after my mom shared with me the experiences my grandmother had been having. I did not bring it up once, I just kept a careful eye on her.
Two weeks ago, she, hesitant but extremely honest, tells me she has been seeing two women next to her bed a night, both in floral dresses. I asked if they talked to her or made contact. She replied “No” but knew they were there to protect her. I said “Okay, Do you feel safe?” She replied “Yes”. I then explained to her what Sundown Syndrome is and being that she has become blind (unless a room is extremely bright then she can see shadows and can differentiate what she is seeing) within the last year, that perhaps her memories, mind and late night happenings might be due to her using memories to create an environment, or adding sounds with memories to create her own reality since she cannot see. She understood and retreated to listening to the news.
Two days later she tells me before I leave that she would like to show me where she wants to sleep instead of her own bedroom. I prop her up in her wheelchair as she is directing me around her living room I realize that once moved out of her lazy boy chair she has not a clue as to the layout of her home she has been in for over fifty years. My grandfather and I proceed to open every window and door, turning on every light to illuminate the house the best we can at two o’clock in the afternoon. Taking her around her house she becomes confused as to where she is at, not understanding that her hallway is not a ramp and that her bedroom is not a patio. Once all is explained again, she places her hands over her face and cries. Her memories, thoughts and being without sight has made for one shitty place in reality. We, my grandfather and I, sit on her bed next to her and express our protection we give her and plan on continuing.
My reality…I am losing my grandmother right before of my eyes. One of the most prominent women in my life is deteriorating little by little, every day, and there is nothing I can do to change that.