This past Sunday, Mim died. Mim was my wife’s grandmother. She was lovely. For 3 of the past 4 years, during the time between Thanksgiving and New Years, wifey has had a death in her immediate family. Next year, we are staying home, wrapped in bubblewrap, and “opting out” of the holidays. It has been a tough fall.
When I first met Mim, she was as nice and as warm as someone could be. I have never met a soul who did not mention those same thoughts when thinking back on Mim. She accepted me into the family, no qualms, and even gave me some “Mim Money” once in a while. A sure sign that you have been accepted!
About 5 years ago, it became very apparent that Mim was having problems with memory, with recognition. She lived with her husband, Pip, in the house they had lived in for over 40 years. He cared for her, perhaps stubbornly, until he died 2 years ago. She had Alzheimers. After Pip’s death, she lived at a home that had a “memory ward” and they provided a safe, unchanging place for her to be.
I used to think how it would be for Pip and Mim, living in the same house, married for decades, and then one starts to not recognize the other. I want to think that the slide into “not knowing” isn’t necessarily unpleasant for the one sliding. I think it is probably worse for us, watching her slide away. Anyway, I wrote a poem, of sorts, about Mim wandering around her house and bumping into Pip, but not recognizing him:
I was here just a second ago…
did you see me?
I stopped by it seems, completely by surprise,
even to me.
Wandering, as I do, it was so nice to see
a familiar face..
Was it recently we met?
I noticed you are married!
Details, you see, sometimes just jump
out at me.
Lovely, marriage, like a blanket against
a winter chill.
So cold have I been, so chilled by
this winter.
I think that is why I was wandering,
shaking my bones to keep warm.
And how lovely, and how warm, it was,
to see you.
In any event. I hope she is with Pip now, and they are reliving it all, one detail at a time.
cancerrant 