A simple diary

A Day of Lessons in Silence

12:05 PM

Ringing again.

It's grandma.

If I answer, I can imagine her slight trembling voice (against all odds)—a mixture of confusion and continued worry. “Did you take my medication?”

Looking again at the clock, I see noon.

This happens every day.

About as consistent as grandma’s call, with the dozens of calls and questions.

Some questions are repeated, some are new to me.

I feel a little tightness in my chest.

And hesitate.

The home aide has recently checked all of grandma’s needs.

If anything was needed, or if grandma's medication had run out, I would know first, right?

Grandma will be safe, forever.

Yet…

The lighting on the phone beckons.

Today, I have another dentist's appointment, and therefore, won't visit grandma until tomorrow.

Once again, the phone vibrates gently on the counter beside me.

I sense the weight against my ribs as I lean over it.

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12:15 PM

As I sip my bitter, lukewarm coffee from a mug, I sense a tightening around my chest from this tension built up during the day.

Every time I hear it vibrate, I cringe.

The smell of coffee still lingers in the room… along with the smell of paper.

I just “know” this will not end in an emergency.

If the home aide thinks there is going to be one, I will be notified.

And yet…

What if I missed something critical?

I see a slight blurred tremble through my hands.

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12:30 PM

I usually go see grandma almost every day.

I take groceries to her house.

I check to see if she has enough food in her fridge.

While I'm with her, I either try to get her to remember or to forget.

We share laughs.

Today, because of the dentist's appointment, I interrupted our daily ritual.

Now, a void in the day breaks somehow.

I picture grandma wondering, “Why didn't they come?”

More guilt begins to settle.

I tell myself: Tomorrow, I will make up for today by going.

I finally dial her number.

Once she answers, I will assure her that I did go to the dentist, and will explain why I won't be visiting her today.

Her voice was calm but very lightly relieved,

“I will wait for you.”

The words are so simple.

They hold so much love.

They hold so much responsibility.

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1:00 PM

I have opened my notebook.

And the pen hovers above the pages.

What I write is about this day’s delay, how it has made me feel, with a reminder in my mind that grandma is safe…

Yet she will still look to me for everything.

Every sentence fills me with emotion:

tightness around the ribs, trembly fingers tight on the page, the scratch of the ink on the pages of the notebook.

Every small delay has a consequence.

A consequence that will not be permanent.

There will always be a way to correct them.

Writing my thoughts helps to slow down.

Simple actions of writing notes and of answering phone calls may help the day to go more smoothly.

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1:30 PM

The aroma from the kitchen is filled with the scent of onions that are probably being sautéed.

I eat my food slowly.

The phone calls.

The numerous delays.

The tension.

They remind me.

As I wash the dishes, I learn:

Mistakes teach you.

Mistakes remind you.

Mistakes create who you are.

Tomorrow I will be visiting grandma.

The guilt that I feel for not visiting her today will transform into my caring for her as tomorrow becomes a day of care and a day filled with my attention.

The city is alive outside me.

The sky is filled with deep purple and grey as night creeps in.

I feel grounded now.

I am here.

The visible consequences are “light.” But they are manageable.

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7:00 PM

As I lay on the couch, with the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I can feel the guilt I have for delaying earlier on today.

I feel the weight of the day’s responsibility, and there is a gentle fatigue in my arms and my lower back.

I see everything that reminds me:

Mistakes are surrounded by love.

Phone calls that come every day.

Daily Care from home-aides.

Grandma has a form of Alzheimer’s disease that requires constant attention. But we all need breaks from looking after grandma.

It is unfortunate to say that some of the mistakes are unavoidable.

At the same time, they may be sometimers' many mistakes” but mistakes.

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10:00 PM

Before I switch off the lights, I look outside and see how the city and world will sink into sleep.

There will be many flickers of lights as the evening draws closer.

I can feel my growing tension leaving.

Mistakes happen.

And there will always be visible consequences.

Mistakes can easily be fixed sometimes.

And many mistakes will continue to give us lessons throughout our lives.

I breathe in.

Slow.

Breathe in deep.

Tomorrow, I will be able to visit grandma.

Today’s delay and today’s momentary guilt are not failures.

They're simple lessons of patience and compassion.

They're simple lessons of increased attention to others.

They're simple lessons of the imperfections of humanity.

With very small lessons, we can learn from experiences that will follow.

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Α/Ν :

In real life, it’s my mom who has the same problem, but fortunately she lives next to me and I also have a home aide.

The phone calls, however, are just phone calls.