This week, I am squeezing a visit with my grandmother. She’s been such a powerhouse for much of my life, the top prescribing psychiatrist in Philly for quite some time. She owned a practice for decades, with hundreds of employees and numerous buildings. The past several years have brought about retirement and a bit of dementia. It’s been gradual, having long term memory, but lapsing in short term memory.
Mama Minda is what I call her, as she never wanted to be called grandma. She was quite young when she became a grandmother with me, I never knew any different. I accepted it, and it stuck. She helped pay for my living as I went to graduate school in psychology, and my first year of tuition. For a brief year after I got my doctorate, I lived and worked with her. I witnessed her wearing powerhouse suite blazers that were bright or filled with bold springtime flowers and heels, bedazzled herself with jewelry.
Depsite her dementia progressing, she still wears bling jewelry. The gold glistens as she walks with a cane, or holding onto your arm. Her time sitting across from patients, listening to their symptoms, now consist of crocheting scarves. She once led meetings and had pharmaceutical reps following her from one building to another offering expansive meals for staff members, I now had to spoon feed her lunch, or else she wouldn’t eat. There’s a sense of appreciation, as she feels this is a loving act and it is. We age, dynamics change.
In the two hours I spent with her, she asked me questions 30-50 times. I didn’t mind responding, as it was a reminder to practice patience. It also served as exposure therapy to talk about my recent break up? Our conversations went like this:
Grandma Me
How old are you now? 20? 30? 40? 46
Where are you living? California
Where in California? Avila Beach
Do you have a boyfriend? We broke up
Why? Not a good match
Was he American? Or Filipino? American
I’ll pray for you so you will find a Thank you
Good match, get married,
And have kids
And repeat
It’s one way to get over a break up… and I know her repetitive questions are a way to ensure I am “happy”, that I am taken care of. All the boxes are checked off for what brought about happiness in her era, and she wouldn’t have to worry about me. Or she could partake in any way to assist, by praying or attempting to play matchmaker.
I am not sure how many years we have together, but I will make the most of it. And will be happy to respond to whatever questions she asks, and know they come from a space of love. It’s a role reversal, and I’m happy to reciprocate.
It Only Takes A Smile 