Christmas Eve…

What a long Christmas it has been.

Yesterday I visited my paternal grandparents. The main part of that visitation is preparing the meal. Last year grandma decided that she would teach me to cook. You see, my family feels that I am totally inadequate in the kitchen as well as artistically. Usually I’m the one who is stuck washing dishes after a meal.

But my grandma had faith that maybe I actually could prepare something in the kitchen.

At least I thought.

Yesterday I tried to help her make things. She asked for suggestions, and everytime she did, I would give her one. Example:

Grandma: “What should I put on top of the casserole? The lid doesn’t fit.”

Me: “Put tin foil. Wrap it like this.”

*grandma looks through me*

Grandma: “Rachel, what do you think I should put on the casserole?”

Rachel: *copying what I just said* “Put tin foil. Wrap it like this.”

Grandma: “Oh Rachel! What a great idea!”

.

.

.

So went my night.

Then comes my grandfather. He has Alzehimers Disease. My grandma won’t accept it though and insists that he just forgets things. It has been difficult to watch him decline just over the past year. I watch my dad and his brother and my grandma and it’s so sad. They are so upset when they have to see what’s become of him.

Like always, I was the one who sat beside him. “Oh Manda! Sit next to grandpa and help him with his presents.”

So I did.

He honestly couldn’t unwrap anything himself. Between questions of “what’s this?” and “what do I do with it?” and looks of confusion, I managed to help him unwrap a present.

It was a sweater. After showing everyone the sleeve of it and saying it was beautiful, he became upset because it wouldn’t go back in the box.

So I struggled with it, folded it nicely and put it back in. I turned for a minute, and when I looked back, he had it unwrapped again and was showing everyone. Just like he never unwrapped it in the first place. I took it from him again and left it at that.

Next thing I noticed, he grabbed one of my presents and was trying to get into the box. At that point, I had enough of it. I grabbed it from him as he grabbed my digital camera that was in my other hand. Then commenced the struggle.

“No! You can’t have that. That’s my camera and it might break.”

“I want to see it!!!”

“I don’t want it to break Grandpa. Maybe later.”

“NO! I WANT to see IT!”

Finally I just gave it to him and let him look through the viewfinder. After asking “Who is that” when looking at my dad (his own son) and taking a picture, he was appeased.

It was nice to be home but sad to see how much worse he has gotten.

Afer being there, we went to midnight mass. Honestly? I started to fall asleep when they were singing religious hymns. I imagined that R. was next to me and that I was leaning on him, which might not have been the best thing to do, because being next to him makes me sleepy anyway…