I understand how my Mom felt attending the funerals of close friends and relatives. It's hard to watch your generation disappearing. It's harder becoming the older generation. After the last of my father's brothers passed away a couple of years ago, a cousin from that side said "Now the top shelf is gone, no more Johhnie Walker Black. We have to go to the middle shelf." Always the alcohol references on that side of the family, but pretty funny just the same.
I miss my Mom - she loved to hear stories about the kids and so many times I've thought "oh I have to tell Mommy that..." or "Mommy's going to laugh at that one..." and then a tear or two forms. It's sad, but necessary - all part of the grieving process. But then I smile. Smile at the memory and our conversations which often centered around the kids.
On Monday I received a call at the office that Julian had thrown up at school. I made a couple of calls and arranged to have him go to my mother-in-law's home until either I or Scissors got home. He stayed home from school yesterday even though he was quite fine. I took him to the nursing home to bring some things for Grandpa. The residents are getting to know Julian although they don't always remember him. He's taking to pretending he's one of the residents and using Grandpa's long shoe horn as a cane and walking the halls talking. I then found him outside one resident's door ushering the resident into his room with a sweeping motion saying "come in." We then went downstairs to the sitting room before we left whereby Julian pretends that he's talking to Louie our dog on the payphone. It's just Julian and myself and Grandpa and one other little lady resident who seems quite vexed that Julian is on the payphone as witnessed by the following exchange:
Resident (sitting stonefaced with a grimace frozen on face): "He's going to hurt himself with that cord."
Me (the uncaring Mom): "It's okay, he's playing pretend."
Resident expression tightens. Julian runs back over to Grandpa and I, then back to the phone.
Resident: "Holler at him! He should hang up that phone!"
Me (the slightly off kilter visitor): "I'm going to holler at you if you keep yelling at my child." Mutter under breath "old crank".
Resident makes a pffft noise at me. Notice that her grimace has turned to a slight smile.
We both feel better now that we've gotten that off our chests and Julian off the payphone as it turns out.
You see why I need to write a blog? Not because I have such great stories to tell but because if I'm not kept off the streets, I may be harassing little old ladies in nursing care facilities.
No good can come of that.