It smells like death here. I try to ignore this though and don’t say or make a comment. We are here for mom. That is why we are really here. So she and my grandmother can say both hello and goodbye to a woman who has raised them both. Now I am here and the only thought that i can comprehend is that i never want to live in a retirement home. I feel bad for my great grandmother, I would hate it if I had to live here. It just seems kind of sad, like someone tried to make it seem homey but it just made it seem worse. The ceilings seem to high, seeming to tell you you can never reach your dreams and that your life is ending.  I smile to my great grandmother although i really want to ask if she is in pain, both physical and mental. But i don’t, today is not about me, today is about my mom. Today is about her problems. I wish i could have Known my  Great grandmother better. But by the time i was old enough to really remember her, the dementia had long ago kicked in.
I wonder if she ever has flashbacks, Where she remembers small things. I wonder what she thinks they are. I wonder if she only sees them as dreams or something she read somewhere rather than something that has actually has happened in her life. I wonder if she realizes that those are her memories, or if she thinks nothing of it.
Sometimes what she said made sense. But other times she would break off mid sentence and would start talking gibberish, it was hard to watch.
I wonder if she is happy. Somehow, i doubt it. To me it seems like all of our“family” could care less about her. Which is messed up, but i don’t say any of that. Instead i tell her how much we have missed her.
Are smiles are fake. You can tell just by looking at the photo that they are not real. They are pained and are suffering, Taking everything to stay alive. Well, that is what it looks like to me anyway. I stare at the picture of all of us standing next to each other. Maybe it is just to me, But i don’t see any happiness. I don’t see any real joy. I see tortured souls being beaten down every second, But there is no running from your attacker because your attacker is quite simply you.   She seems a lot different than i remember, She seems much older. I was surprised by how skinny she was. It looked like she never ate. But the thing that really took me were her eyes. The ones that used to be a lovely dark brown had changed and now looked a mixture of blue, green and hazel, reminding me of what a pond would look like if someone throw a bag of soil in. Although she smiled at us her eyes told something else. They held a burden, a burden that was dragging her down and underneath the water. I wish i could help her. I wish i could take her out of this place, but i know we can’t. As i look into her eyes i wonder what caused them to be this way. Maybe regret. Maybe pain. Maybe Loneliness. Maybe confusion. Or maybe it’s just everything. Maybe it’s just the world. This does not make me too excited about growing old. I wonder what she thinks when she sees us. I wonder what thoughts go through her mind. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to not be able to remember people or things. Someone as important as your own children, Or your own husband. But she can’t and that just seems depressing not knowing who your loved ones are when you see them. Instead she sees us as strangers who came to visit her. She seems lonely. It would be nice if we were closer. But there is nothing i can really do about that, And although my mother doesn't say it i can tell that we are here because she is going to die very soon. Because this is what you do when someone is dying, You do everything in your power to make them smile.
And as we leave all i can think is that this summer has lost  some of its light.