Her People

I’m a foreigner, though, I call her grandma. I sit with her, feed her, hold her hand, calm her, take walks with her, and used to care for her. But, my face will never be familiar and though my presence may be enough, it will never fully be comforting. She wants you, her people. You,…

Selfish or Selfless: Caring for the Elderly

You know them and just maybe you think of them once in a while. They are alive, or one of them still is. They raised you until you were weaned, helped develop your character, encouraged, and supported you, until you left the house. Or just maybe they didn’t; they were heartless, life sucking, and you…

Losing You

Walking away is the best I can do as you cry yourself to sleep at 4:42pm. For all you know it’s morning, as you have the last few months at this time. You are confused, but you don’t know why, you are incorrigible, nothing will help the situation, thus is the reason I must step…

Becoming Someone Else: a fading memory

I wish sometimes I had a little camera on my glasses so I can visually show my parents the situation when I explain it to them later than 4:30am.  I faintly hear my voice in the dark surrounding my dream state. In a panic, I open my sleepy eyelids and wait for sound to break…

Where Does She Go?

I sit with my grandmother often, a ready hand when she’s in need. I am a safe place when she is lonely, a conversation techie when questions arise, a chef satisfying her taste buds, a hugger in confusion, and an encourager of her independence. At 99-years old, she’s lived longest in this home, raised a…

Knowing You

Just a little taste of what I’ve been working on, inspired by the life of a caretaker. “I am tired. Fatigued. Emotionally I want to breakdown into deep heaves, gasping for air through salted tears. I want to release all that I’ve been hanging on to. But I don’t. The sun is shaded by the…