My grandma is being moved to an assisted living home tomorrow. She's going to the same place my other grandma lived when she got old enough and my great-aunt Nellie, as well. I feel like it's our family's official assisted living home.
The problem is, when you take someone to a place like that to live, you know that it means they may not live much longer. Or at least, the life they live is not going to be anything like the life they've had for all their years beforehand. My grandma is making the passage to the next stage of her oldness, where she's still my grandma-- she still has stories to tell, still complains about the same things, still looks like herself-- but she's starting to not be completely herself. She's not all the way there when I visit, when I see her, when I look in her eyes. She slipping away and she won't be here for too much longer.
That's okay, because she's had a long life, raised her kids, watched her grandkids grow up; she's lived. And it's not okay because she's my grandma and has been for my entire life, and life will feel very different when she's not anymore. A piece will be missing, a person who matters will be only memories, no longer tangible, hugable, kissable, visible. And I know grandmas always go away eventually, but it doesn't make it any easier.
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