Things sometimes feel a bit easier to deal with when the sun is shining and you can be outside. I’ve always thought it helps to put things into perspective. Helps you to understand the balance of nature.
I’m not sure how often I’ll be blogging for a while. I’m struggling to come to terms with the fact that my grandmother isn’t very well, worse than I thought. We had a sit down chat with the doctor yesterday and it was quite a shock, especially when he said it could be a “matter of weeks”. Nannie is the matriarch of the family, she’s been such a huge part of my life and I’ve been watching her slowly lose the sparkle that made her my Nannie.
It’s very difficult to deal with, but I have no choice. It’s now about bringing her happiness and comfort with each visit, even if she’s not remembering it all. What else can I do? I’m trying to support my Mum in any way I can with this, try and lighten the load of it a bit. It’s a part of growing up that I don’t enjoy or want, there’s no protection from it, but again, it’s just something I feel driven to do.
I’m not religious as such, but I think I am quite spiritual. I do believe in God, I do believe in Jesus - perhaps in my eyes he’s a natural God, it’s not a case of light and dark. An entity that I don’t completely understand. When I found out about the beliefs of the Society of Friends (Quakers), I couldn’t believe how much of it made sense to me. An inner light, peace, equality, open communication lines to other faiths. Tolerance. A connection to nature. I also have a great respect for the teachings of Buddhism, it brings me a lot of peace. I suppose because it’s very connected to nature and the natural world too.
So these are some of the things I draw on at times like these. Being outside, out in the open. Being around my animals, being around the wild birds. I think sometimes when I’m coping with really difficult stuff I can shut down a bit to people around me. I worry that I put too much stress on Rich as well, he seems to be continually comforting me with the bad things that keep happening to me for the last 5 years or so. My head never switches off though, and I go into this strange world where I’m just finding ways to ease the stress, the pain, the tears, the sadness or the grief. I suppose it’s my coping mechanism.
So for now, please forgive me if I’m not posting as often as I have been. Keep checking in though, I might find that it’s a way to keep me grounded and a sense of normality and equally, there may be more posts than usual.
September 19th, 2008 at 7:07 pm
Poor you. I really do feel for you but there isn’t really anything I can think of to say…
September 19th, 2008 at 10:08 pm
I’ve also been thinking about Quakerism recently, so much of it makes sense although I don’t think I could ever measure up to their way of thinking. It does seem such a calm, balanced faith, and the silence seems so necessary in our rushed world. Sorry I can’t think of anything that doesn’t come over as a platitude where your Grandmother is concerned. It just is a part of life, I felt totally bereft when my Dad died, yet gradually that feeling receeded and I was left with a deep feeling of gratitude that he had been my dad. Difficult to put into words, but perhaps you will experience something similar.
September 20th, 2008 at 5:37 pm
Sorry to hear your news, Nannie may know more of your visits than you realise. Giving her a hand massage with a nice scented aromatherapy oil can be comforting to both her and you, and your voice too, the medics tell that when many other senses and abilities have failed, patients can often still hear.
Certainly for me after my father died, nature put a lot of things in to perspective, but each of us has to pick our own way through such a difficult time, there is no right or wrong way ((hug))
October 4th, 2008 at 2:29 pm
I feel lucky to still have my nanny alive (she is going to be 93 in December). In fact, I’ve had all of my grandparents live well in to my adulthood and I’m so blessed by that. My nanny is the last of the bunch and it is very difficult to imagine a world without her, though she tires much more quickly each time we talk. I wish you well as you move through the next phase of your lives together.