This past Thursday, I took my grandmother to a different nursing home. I was very happy that she would be at a facility that was closer since the other was an hour plus away but I was very nervous because I had no idea what this “new” place would be like. My grandmother is a bit oblivious to all that is happening around her. She just knows somewhere deep down that every thing will be okay. As we walked out, she smiled to every one and got hugs – they were sad to see her go, she was happy to get a hug. She had been there about a month but doesn’t remember any of her time there. She holds onto nothing. Neither sadness nor joy. She did wonder as we got into the car if I made sure to get her purse. This she will ask again and again. And, each time I will say, yes. Sometimes, I will thank her for reminding me.

On our way to her new home, we sang songs. As we do. We don’t worry about getting the words right or having to sing the whole song. We just sing what we remember and laugh at the end. I don’t know why we laugh exactly – we aren’t singing funny songs though we do like to see how long we can extend the last note together - sometimes in a very low voice just for drama. This makes us laugh.

When we got to the new place, every one was very nice. Overly so - lots of smiles in the front by the door way with flowers to greet you, a fresh happy smell and yet... I am always a little wary when people, things are too nice. Your gut will tell you if you listen. I was half listening, praying I was wrong and yet, there was indeed an energy shift when we got to the back of the building where the long term memory care unit was located. Less smiles and a sewage smell. Her room was very small shared with another woman named Mary who though mostly docile has bouts of rage. I said hello to Mary but she seemed unable to hear me or take in much as she was laying in a somewhat fetal position staring out the window.

The bathroom was like a closet – barely large enough for one person let alone two if help was needed. Thankfully, mostly, my grandmother is still able to take care of herself that way. After she went inside, I stood by the door in ready position just in case she needed help. I felt alone and sad. Mary seemed to moan quietly. I went up to her, next to her bed – “Are you okay Mary?” I asked. She jerked toward me and hissed. I was taken aback but tried to remain calm, “would you like me to get the nurse?” She tried to scratch at me and screeched in a language I didn’t understand, her eyes wide and angry. My grandmother came out of the bathroom just then so I went to her. She didn’t complain about anything - not one word about the smell, the small, the difficulties. She doesn’t have these kinds of thoughts anymore. It just is what it is. No judgment, good or bad.

I helped her into her wheel chair, the only seat available, while I sat on the edge of her bed. We played a few rounds of solitaire on her food tray/table and did our usual double high-five when she “won” in the end.  She laughed because this makes her happy; I laughed too because in the end, she is what is important; not the place but this person.

So many details to work out this first day and by evening, I felt exhausted. I don’t want my grandmother to stay here but for now, there is little choice. I think of my grandmother being in the Japanese American Internment camp where she sang during “entertainment hour” – she said, “it made folks feel better.” People just made the best of things. They did not dwell on the things that were “wrong”, that they couldn’t change anyway. My grandmother’s experience 60 years ago continues to inform me today. “What IS working? Expand on that.”  My grandmother of today teaches me to be in the moment, to accept what is.  A teacher of mine who recently passed said often - “stay in curiosity not in criticality. “ I realize that even if I feel alone, I am not. I have so many teachers standing behind me, next to me, looking down - whispering in my ears.

Everything is going to be okay.

So, I found out that there was a woman who has a similar sweet disposition as my grandmother. Her name is Alice. We got the two of them together - drawing/coloring after dinner, sitting together after hours. I found out that my grandmother’s roommate “Mary” speaks Farsi so I looked it up and learned a few words. I figured it must be very hard to be in a room unable to care for yourself, no one speaking your language. It is no wonder she hissed at me – who am I but another stranger? I met her daughter and we talked together, made friends. I will keep an eye on her mother, she will keep an eye on my grandmother. We are in this together. We are creating a village. We are responsible for one another.

When I left last night, my grandmother and Alice were sitting together, wheel chairs facing each other with a small table between them. They were sharing a word search puzzle – my grandmother was helping Alice. “She helped me find TWO words already!” Alice said with a laugh. I hugged them both and said I would see them in the morning. They smiled and said okay but I’m not sure they were really aware of me. As I was leaving, I popped my head into the room to say good-bye to Fariba and her mother, Mary. See you tomorrow, I said.