So again I find myself with too much on my mind. Thought about a blog about yesterday and it felt forced. I don’t want to force myself to write, just to publish another blog. I want it to be good. You take time out of your day to read what’s swimming around in my brain so I don’t want to waste your precious time.
So here goes….
My father is in PA right now visiting his mom. We call her Nana. She has Alzheimer’s. This disease is awful. She’s no longer in her house, the place she called home forever. She’s in a nursing home and doesn’t remember where she is. Sometimes she remembers her kids, sometimes she doesn’t. My dad is going through the house collecting her personal items before the crew comes in and disposes of all her stuff. This stuff represents her life and it will all be put into bags and hauled away soon.
This is depressing. What’s the point? At the end of your life you can’t take anything with you. We’ve all heard the stupid saying “you never see a hearse pulling a U-Haul.” I guess I never thought about that till now. My Nana won’t take anything with her. But what about what she leaves behind? Kids. Grand kids. Great grand kids. Memories.
I’ll share some of my memories with you:
She always had Ginger Ale in her fridge. Not a 2L bottle but the cute, little green, glass bottles. Every time I see those I think of her. She also always had salami too. I LOVE salami; we will buy a pound and eat it in days. It’s disgusting how much salami I can eat yet so wonderful at the same time. She wrapped the lunch meat and cheese in saran wrap and placed in Tupperware. We had to use a fork to get a piece out and then wrap it back up again; no getting it out with your fingers, this was not allowed. Only touch the piece you will eat! This analness was passed down to my father. If I grab a piece of lunchmeat or cheese with my fingers, it’s the end of the world in their house. Not in my house though; it’s a lunchmeat and cheese free-for-all! I’m such a rebel.
Sitting at her small table in the kitchen learning to play Solitaire and always trying to catch her cheating.
Eating the best homemade, Italian food. Scarpellis. Yum. They are thin, crepe like things that she would fill with cheese and pour chicken broth over them. I remember stirring a huge pot of pasta sauce.
Her “shows” aka soap operas.
Getting yelled at for sliding down the stairs.
I could share more, but I won’t.
She is Nana, and she is loved by many.
Thanks for allowing me to share my world with you…welcome to my brain.