“How about we all get together for supper later? I’ll tell Mother,” he says. My grandfather looks into my eyes and says, “I’ve heard that before.” He dismisses my words with a swat of his hand. “Her next stop is heaven, Grandpa.” After seventy years of marriage and all that goes with that, I fear he will lose his last pillar of reality. Then after a moment’s hesitation he says, “What about Mother?” How about you?” “That’s what I was thinking,” he responds. “Maybe,” I reply, “I was thinking this stop or the next one. I play along, pretending not to notice his dementia. “Are you getting off at the next stop?” My grandfather asks. I tell myself, “He needs some attention too.” Deep down I know I am looking for a way to distract myself. I wipe my eyes and get up and go to the other room to see my 94-year-old grandfather. “It symbolizes transformation, Grandma,” I say. She wears the butterfly necklace I gave her for Christmas and it flutters and falls with her breathing. She lies in her bed, mouth open, struggling to breathe. She can’t open her eyes, speak or swallow. First there was a helpful piece by Susan Quinn now, we’re pleased to share this tender guest post by psychotherapist Jacey Tramutt. The May 2012 Lion’s Roar magazine includes a special section of eleven Buddhist teachers and writers on embracing change, and we’re also sharing exclusive related writings online. Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window).Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window).Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window).Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window).
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