Skip 81

Last night I wanted nothing more than to speed home after work, de-pantyhose, and crawl under the electric blanket. My mom called around 2 and asked, if I wasn't doing "young people things," I'd come over to help create a family-type atmosphere since they were having Papa (crazy g-pa) over for dinner. I said, "not really," which I think took my mom aback a little bit. "I appreciate your honesty..."

Cut to: me driving to the Sunrise after work to pick him up. When I got to his room, the first thing he showed me was the recent Washington Post cover story with a photo of two dudes kissing. I said something about "love being a nice thing," and then was like "where's your coat?" (With the same tone, I'm afraid, that I use when I want the dog to please stop whatever he's doing in the yard and for the love of Jesus get in the house. Wanna TREAT?) Rather than get his coat, he retrieved and reviewed with me a copy of the bill for his assisted living place, which he's highlighted and scribbled on up to high heaven. He demanded it off of a staff member who didn't know that Papa doesn't get bills, or any paperwork of any kind, for exactly this reason.

In his previous life, my grandpa was a shrewd and successful financial mind. Now, he's not. His paranoia and memory loss have created an actual monster. There are hundreds of pieces of paper around his apartment, all with lists of things to do, thoughts, people to call. Most of the notes I saw had something to do with steps he needed to take to deal with what he believes is my freaking saint of a mother embezzling from him. It was disturbing.

We got down to the lobby when he realized that he forgot the grocery list he was supposed to give my mom. So, we went back upstairs, and spent about 15 minutes rifling through more paper to find the list. I found what I thought was it, and he looked at it and tried to read it, and we agreed that it was probably the right thing. Along the way, I shoved any "notes to self" that I thought it were best he not find again ("Revise copy of my will--call a lawyer, etc.") into my pockets. I'd find out later that he'd given my mom the shopping list over the phone earlier that afternoon and the groceries were already bought at this point.

Before we could leave the building (it had been about an hour, now) he demanded that I allow him to turn off all the lights in the common area--the living room/pool room/reception area. I told him that those lights were for everyone. He then got kind of stern, "I'm NOT going to leave all these lights on!" At this point, I'd lost some of my patience, (remember, my electric blanket fantasies?) grabbed his arm, pulled him away, and said "Those aren't your lights!" He then laughed and said he forgot, and I immediately felt like shit.

As we walked out to my car, he said "Where are we?" And I said, "Outside." "I know that!"

There was quiet for a minute and then he told me I should skip being 81, if I could.

It took a lot not to cry all the way home.