Even those people who don’t like to be touched. Freaks.
Last night the Hubby and Sister Kristin and I had dinner with Nanny (our grandmother) for Valentine’s Day. I didn’t want her to be alone on the day of love. (Ack.) We had Chinese food, which is Nannie’s favorite take out. Whenever I have Chinese I think of my Grampy, Nanny’s late husband. I think that she does, too. Grampy loved Chinese food. Well, American Chinese food. You know.
Nanny lives nearby, but I rarely get over to see her. I have some amount of guilt about that. She lives alone now. She used to live with Grampy, but he passed away over ten years ago. When he died, my aunt Danna moved in with Nanny. Then Danna passed away 5 years ago. It hit my grandmother pretty hard. Sister Kristin does live very near Nanny, but I feel like Nanny is alone most of the time.
I chatted with my Mom about it, and she said that she feels that Nanny doesn’t have much to live for anymore. She said that Nanny told her that she wants to be with Danna and Grampy. When I heard that, I felt a very great need to hug Nanny. So last night, I did.
I wonder. What will my life be like when I am 79? Will I be alone? Will I count the days until I die? Will I be found, weeks after I do die, partially eaten by Grady? (He’s never gonna die. Shuddup.)
And then I remember: I am a happy, happy guy. I don’t depress easily. I’ll be fine, surrounded with love and laughter and family and friends.
At the very least, Sabrina and I and our fourteen hundred cats will be living together and arguing like those two old people in yesterday’s post. That’s something.