Almost a year ago we moved my mom's parents from their house of 50 years into an apartment at St. Martin's in the Pines. They are getting older (my grandfather turns 90 next month) and growing more frail, both mentally and physically. In addition to the move, another result of their age is the preference of my mom that they not drive at night. Seeing as how St. Martin's and Fox Hall are practically neighbors, this has given me several opportunities to play "chauffeur" for them anytime we have a family gathering. These car rides have become precious to me as they have been times for us to catch up, for me to update them on my life and for them to tell me about the most recent speaker or musician to visit St. Martin's.
Last night on one of these rides, as I was taking them back to St. Martin's, somehow we got to talking about the Bible or church or something. My grandfather casually spit out "Yeah, I just finished reading the book of Isaiah to Meme."
Sidenote: Meme is my grandmother who, up until just a few years ago, was the quintessential grandmother. Dodding on her grandchildren. Cooking for us. Keeping up with our every move. Thinking we were perfect. Then the dementia set in. And although she still (thankfully) remembers us, it is easy to see how this disease has taken a toll on her spirit. The roles are now reversed. We are now charged with being HER biggest cheerleaders and reminding her of how wonderful she is and how much we love her. My grandfather is still with it. For being almost 90, he has all of his mental faculties, but it's easy to see how Meme's disease is also taking a toll on him. I remember one day thinking "this is kind of like The Notebook." He has to constantly bring her back to reality. Remind her where they live. One time he even had to convince her he was her husband, not her brother (who has been dead for most of my life). Last night, I realized this is a lot more like The Notebook than I had originally thought. Except instead of re-reading her the story of their lives together, every night Paw Paw reads Meme THE story.
He told me last night that he has read through the Bible 10 times now in his life. He has recently started reading it to Meme. He didn't tell me this to brag or condemn or even challenge me. He just casually said it as though it were essential to his daily routine; which it is. "Yeah, we finished Isaiah last night so now we'll move on to Jeremiah." I wanted to say "Isaiah! That's a tough book! Did you have a commentary?" Or, "Jeremiah, did you know he is known as the 'weeping prophet' and that he also wrote the book of Lamentations?" But I didn't. Because for some reason my know-it-all self realized in that moment that this was not a time for me to show off my Bible knowledge. This moment was a gift. A time for me to just listen and observe what it looks like to love someone for 70 years. To walk humbly and faithfully. The realize your need for grace in the most basic way. So, instead, I just said "wow, Paw Paw, that's awesome!" To which, Meme replied "Yeah, he's read it enough, maybe one of these days he'll memorize it!" She still clearly believes the best about the ones she loves!
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