Finished

In a world focused on instant gratification, patience becomes a difficult characteristic to master. Factor in the unpleasant truth that I am not naturally gifted with patience, and I often feel like a ticking time bomb when I am forced to wait on something.  But, sometimes, things are worth the wait, even though when I am in the midst I wonder if they really are.

Over six months ago, I lost my last grandparent, my maternal grandma.  In the wake of her death, she left my handicapped aunt without a definitive future plan.  I was clear on what my grandma did not want for my aunt, but I wasn't sure how to achieve an acceptable alternative. I had no real legal authority in the situation, but I was driven to find a solution.  In some ways, it felt like the last thing I could do for my grandma, a last expression of my love for her. Does that mean, I didn't get frustrated with the details that we were left to wade through, with little or no preparation from her, prior to her death?  No.  There were times when I was very frustrated, wishing she had done things differently.  Learning that a whole world could have been available to my aunt that never was before, because my grandma did not want "help", which really just meant she did not take advantage of the services my aunt would have been entitled to long ago.  I cannot begin to speculate how many phone calls I made, meetings I attended, running that I did, to get my aunt approved for state aid.  My father and mother, filled out endless paperwork, attended to financial matters, and met repeatedly with lawyers, to assist me in my endeavors. There always seemed to be just one more hoop to jump through, one more paper to turn in, one more phone call to make. But this week we finished. It was surreal, that we had finally made it to our end goal.

On Tuesday, I moved my aunt, into her new home, with two other handicapped middle-aged women, and 24 hour care provided by an organization that assists handicapped individuals with living in the community. The small ranch home, had been gutted and completely remodeled in the last couple of months.  It is truly gorgeous inside. My aunt has her own bedroom, which was something that concerned my grandma about the old "group home" model, sharing bedrooms.  My husband and I moved all of her items, unpacked everything, and decorated her room the night before her arrival.  However, the next day, the day of the move was awful.  My handicapped aunt broke down no less than 20 times between leaving her old home, signing her lease, and arriving at her new home.  She walked in the house, sobbing, and threw her coat on the couch, announcing, "I hate living here!" I knew the move was going to be difficult, but I felt some level of frustration, that she wasn't even "trying".  I worked hard to let those feelings go in the moment.  She was not only dealing with a new living situation, but the reality of my grandmother's absence, was glaring at this point.  While she lived in my grandma's house with my uncle for the last several months, there was some level of being able to "pretend".  Pretending that nothing had changed. Pretending that my grandma could come back.  As long as she was in that house, surrounded by my grandma's things, she could imagine things were no different than ever.

I was disappointed though, human nature after all, wanting her to embrace the world of opportunities before her.  She was able to be with peers and not feel different. She could go on more outings than ever before, because the staff arranged events regularly and make sure she got there.  A whole new world was at her fingertips, and she was declaring it horrible, before even giving it a chance.  Deflated, my mom and I left her behind, tantrum in full force. I felt badly for leaving without saying goodbye, but it was one of those moments where it just would have made things worse.  The next 24 hours, I fretted, wondering how she was managing, or more importantly how the staff and her roommates were dealing with the wailing and gnashing of teeth.  Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I called the house to check in with the staff, but not with her. I didn't want to start the tears again by letting her know I was on the phone.  The report I got from the staff person was a comforting one.  She had done remarkably well.  After we had left the previous day, she cried about 5 more minutes, and then joined them for dinner. No more tears the rest of the night.  In fact, none the next day either.  I felt slightly cheated, but my relief regarding the report outweighed that fleeting emotion.  Does this mean I think she won't cry or throw a tantrum any time in the near future about wanting to come home?  In a word, no. She will most likely have a few more instances of breaking down as she continues to adjust, but I am filled with hope because I know she really can do it.  I suspect over time, she really will learn to love it. So, it is with that knowledge that I have completed my goal, and I am thankful that she is in good hands.

This last 6 months has been physically and mentally draining.  I hit a wall this week and felt completely and utterly drained after the hustle and bustle of the move. But now, I feel like I can step back in good conscience and relax, for the first time in a LONG time.  I hope this feeling lasts for a bit.  I need some calm and some plain old dullness for quite awhile.