I haven’t posted much about Grandma for the past few months because my visits to her have generally been heartbreaking. Every Wednesday, I bring a new bouquet to brighten up her room in an assisted living facility. When I arrive, she’s almost always lying in bed, listening to an audio book but unaware of its plot or title. She tends to be weak and disoriented, asking the same question over and over. I don’t like to dwell on the image of the lost and feeble shell that’s taken the place of my once-vibrant grandmother.
This week was different, though. When I brought my fresh bouquet to Grandma’s bed for her inspection, she sat up and said, “Take a picture of me with it!” So I did, but she wasn’t done. She ordered me to take pictures of her with some of her favorite objects. By the end of our impromptu modeling session, I had almost 40 pictures. Here are some of my favorites:
Grandma was pleased with her photo shoot. “I don’t mean to be morbid,” she said, “But I’m glad you’ll have pictures of me after I’m gone. When you’re 97, you have to start thinking about these things.”
Indeed you do, and indeed she did.