April Showers

I have been burning up the road between DC and Barboursville. My grandmother is dying of small cell lung cancer; recently it spread to her brain. She decided to come home to Brownland, the ancestral land of her father's family, to die on her own terms.

I think the decision is very much in keeping with my grandmother's persona. Because my tendency, with regard to family stuff, is to withdraw, I have decided that I would attempt to be as present as possible in the process, and be a good granddaughter, daughter, niece and cousin. It's easier for me to manage the unmanageable when I assign myself a specific task. My talks with Jim D. have helped me think about what "present" means, and why this is important.

When she was still in the hospital, this meant sitting in the room with her, my grandfather, and some of their children. Because I was sleepy, I closed my eyes and just listened to them. It was nice to hear their familiar voices, engaging in familiar conversation. My grandmother was struggling to talk, though... it was hard to understand her. At the same time, she was determined to express quite complex thought. It was interesting to listen to, and I found myself understanding her in almost an intuitive fashion. I felt like I was listening to her persona rather than her voice, and hearing her thought process that way.

Now, at home, she is more clear but also more tired. She is alternately seeking company and wishing for silence. She says the names of visitors or people she wishes would visit. My grandfather sits with her more and but seems present less. It's strange to watch the titans of my youth grapple with the basics of every day existence.

My grandmother catches pieces of conversation and repeats them; sometimes it's a glimpse of her dry humor or love of word play. Sometimes she's expressing disdain for the verbal attacks we launch at one another; sometimes she is talking out of her head, I think.