My grandmother has been put in a nursing home. She is 92 and I miss her a lot. When I was growing up, she lived 2 blocks behind us and I would visit her several times a week. We were best buds.
As I got older, time would not permit me to see her as often, but I would try. When I was away at college, I would drop my things off at my parents' house, and see her before I went out with my friends.
I married and would take my children to see her. They grew to love her as I did. It was hard for the family to put her in that home, but she is more than just fragile with age, she needs medications that are beyond our comprehension. Now her mind wanders. Sometimes she is completely there, and we talk about so many things, and other times she can't quite recall you I am.
Many of the residents are like her. Most are younger, and some, much younger. At first I didn't notice too many of them. I wanted to concentrate on my grandmother. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to notice the rest of the residents, and I wasn't sure if I should notice the rest. But as time when on, I got to know most of the people and the staff there. They all have their good days and bad.
Sometimes, when my grandmother was having one of her bad days, I would walk down the hall, not thinking or looking around, just moving. On one of those days, I was walking down her hall and heard someone say "Hey, Joey."
It was Lois, one of the younger residents, in room 514, two rooms down. She had seen me as I passed her doorway.
"Hi, Lois," I said, putting on what I thought was a good front.
"Your grandmother not doing too good today?" she asked.
I went in and sat in the extra chair and talked about how hard it was to she her deteriorate like that. Lois was sympathetic and listened. It lifted the load from me. I started to feel better and responded to her questions and soon we were having a nice conversation.
On my subsequent visits, if my grandmother was not up to conversation, I found myself drifting down to Lois' room. Her face would light up when I walked in. I liked it when she smiled. I found myself thinking about Lois more and more when I was away from the nursing home.
We talked about her late husband, their life and how their only son was killed in an auto accident. I was bold enough to tell her I thought she was still a very beautiful woman and that she probably turned a lot of heads over the years. She blushed, but said "I have some photo albums if you would like to see them."
"I would like that." I said and she pulled open the bedside table drawer and pulled out two well-worn albums.
We looked through them and I saw her entire life transpire, from black-and-white to color and from youth to senior citizen.
As we looked at the photos, I could see the young Lois was very good looking and had quite a figure. I found myself looking at the woman beside me and for the first time, I was looking at her as a woman. The figure was still there, but she wore her clothing to disguise it. Oh, the bust was lower and skin a little wrinkled, but she seemed to have all the parts. My mind began to wonder if certain parts still worked.
"Lois, you were quite a looker back then, but you know, you've still got it too."
"Thank you Joey, but I think you're just being nice to an old lady."
