My brother Morgan and I sat with our Grandma Wava today and told her that her only son had died. Her mind kind of flickered out at first, she didn’t know who he was or who we were, she didn’t know what we were saying, then it all slowly, with a lot of repetition, it clicked. I showed her some old photos and she suddenly remembered her son Jim, she sobbed for his loss. I showed her his death photo, the memento mori portrait I took at the mortuary (making sure first that she wanted to see it), then she remembered everything…us, him, our whole life histories, and the meaning of everything we had said. At the end, we had an amazing connection and expression of love. It was one of those moments that turned out just as I had hoped and imagined.
She thanked me for telling her, and for helping her to understand what had happened. I told her that the family was concerned that this news would be too hard for her, but I knew the truth was so important to her, even when it was painful. …She nodded…”Always! Always tell me the truth!”
She said she was so sorry that I had been lost to him, and he to me in recent years…and that I was basically overlooked by everyone in the family ever since I was a little girl, which is weird, because I always felt that way, but she said it out loud to me.
“You were supposed to be the little sweetheart, our little sweetheart, but then you weren’t. We all got distracted. I’m so sorry.