Last Day. Brace yourself, it's a long one

There is noise everywhere. I've escaped to the bathroom of our hotel room because I just want some quiet. I need to process.

We're leaving Connecticut tomorrow morning, which means that today was our last visit to Grandma. Getting to spend so much time with her the last two days has been great. I guess the first day we were here must have just been an especially bad day, because she has had no trouble remembering us since then. We've spent a lot of time reminiscing. I've loved being able to hear about her life and all the places she's been. She was very diligent about collecting old family pictures (we have many dated pre-1900), which my dad has been working on scanning into the computer, so he brought his computer and we have spent many hours going through the pictures with her. She has great difficulty seeing the pictures because her eyesight is so bad, but for most of them she was able to recognize at least the people in the pictures, and we would discuss those people, where they were, what was going on in the picture. She really enjoyed that. When you start discussing present happenings or things just start happening in the room,however, she just kind of fades out. The dementia makes it difficult for her to process what's going on around her. A few weeks ago my dad called and she only answered the phone because her roommate told her that it was ringing and she should answer it. She forgets things like that now, but there have been a few good moments over these last few days when her old spirit has shone through. At one point I told her that the footrests have been left off her wheelchair so she could kick people who were in her way, and she said "That's a good idea!". Another time she was telling a story and just sort of drifted off, as if she had been trying to remember some detail but then forgot what story she was telling, and my dad tried to help her back to it, saying, "You were talking about the camp.." and she cut him off, saying with the most gusto I've seen from her this whole visit, "Now wait a minute! Now wait a minute! Let me say something!" and then she drifted off again. She had no idea what she was saying, but she was not about to let herself be interrupted!

We also went to the cemetery today to see my dad's father's grave. The man I knew as grandpa was actually my dad's stepfather. His real dad died in 1975 and my grandma remarried before I was born. It was a little odd, visiting the grave of a man I've never known, but at the same time it was very emotional. I just stood there, meeting Edward Joseph Gordon of the first time, while my dad silently remembered. I saw the sweetest thing I've ever seen my dad do there, and that was watching as he lovingly scraped the bird poop off of his dad's gravestone with a knife. I have never seen my dad display sentiment like that before, and it made me regret the massive distance between us. This trip has both shortened and widened the gap between me and my father, because in reminiscing with Grandma I have heard so many new stories and learned so much about my father and his life that I didn't know before, but at the same time it's revealed to me how much of that gap he creates and will never close, which will be discussed later.
Oddly enough, the defining part of that graveyard visit was my grandpa's middle name, Joseph, because it is also my brothers name. I never knew it before today, but my brother, Joseph Donald Gordon, was named for both my parents' fathers, who died before my mom and dad met. My revelation led to the first real conversation I've had about my parents with either of my parents about my brother, who died when I was 4. I asked my dad where Joey is buried, which apparently he is not. They had Joey cremated but my mother could never bear to actually bury him, so the ashes are most likely somewhere in the attic at my mom's house. I need to discuss this when we get back. I think it's time my brother was buried.
I also asked my dad what happened the night Joey died, and for the first time ever I finally got to hear it. It's sad that I never knew the details of an event that has shaped my life so drastically, but now I do. Fifteen years later, and I don't think it was any easier to hear.

This visit has been the first time I've seen Grandma in about two years, and I'm so happy we made the trip. All the previous times we've been up here I was too young and immature to appreciate the value of her age and to enjoy just hearing about her life. She never was one for games or play, she's much more of an intellectual, so as a child I didn't like her much. I am so grateful that I had this chance to listen to her and not be bored, to appreciate the value of what she has to say. She truly is a remarkable woman, and I'm proud to call her my family.

Of course, not all of this visit has been easy. Yesterday when we got to the hospital she was extremely worn out. Her breathing was short and labored, and she couldn't stay with us mentally long enough to comprehend that we were there. The extreme frailty of her condition became fully evident at that moment, and it was all I could do not to cry. The worst part of that moment was seeing my dad and the extreme pain and helplessness he felt. It has been so difficult to watch his grief over this visit. To say my dad is not one for emotional expression is an understatement. He does not show emotion, does not speak it, but a few times over these days I have seen the extreme pain and grief wash over his face in especial moments of my grandma's weakness. Bearing witness to his grief has been the hardest thing about this trip, because there is nothing I can do to relieve it. Like I said, my father does not show his emotions, and he will accept no comfort, at least not from me, and watching him deal alone with the pain of watching his mother deteriorate has not yet failed to make me cry.

This emotional distance has characterized this trip for me. It has meant that now, sitting alone in the bathroom, is the first time I've been able to cry. Despite everything we are going through, I have had to hold my tears back around my family because I know they are not welcome. It's one thing to have to hold them back around my grandmother, but families are supposed to grieve together, and that I can be surrounded by people and still feel like I'm going through this alone adds a whole new dimension to the tragedy.