The value of quality time
I realize most people have roommates they find themselves at odds with, but when it is your grandpa, the complexity of the argument is layers deep. Decades, actually.
Our roles continue to morph into one another’s previous one. I am entering this adult responsibility phase and he is approaching needing to be cared for more regularly. Both of us take issue with a loss of our freedom as a result of our aging. I have dreams of traveling the world, he can’t sit still without being bored to death… well…. almost dead anyway.
It took a while to figure out what it is that my grandparents really want. Of course, having an extra set of hands around to move things is helpful; having someone young to do the dishes is a big plus. It takes a really long time for grandma to do it. It takes grandpa a really long time to make a sandwich. Turns out: they want more time. They want some time with me. They want some of my time. The price of time has inflated like a motherfucker since the times of sharing it. Who shares time anymore? Time is money, baby. You better be paying me.
Now a perspective shift changes this. Grandparents are worthy of my time. In exchange, I’m getting life lessons. Not “I don’t want to conduct myself in that manner” — Actually “Okay, where do I express that behavior in my life so much that I’m noticing it here”. There is a part of me that does recognize the personal responsibility to be here in this time with them because they instilled those exact morals in me. Be reliable. I love them so much that I’m willing to give them my life-essence of time. I do have a mental limit, however, particularly with my grandpa. One of the greatest gifts of doing shadow work is that you become very skilled at catching yourself projecting and grandpa is that mirror for me often.
I woke up in a shit mood and recognized it immediately as something I needed to figure out fast. Relieved that no one was awake in the house, I snuck in for a shower to work through the thoughts. I basically came to the conclusion that I’ve been awfully tired lately because my grandpa complains so much that now I’m depressed. Bear with me while I cut that fat.
This is obviously something I could change by trying to spend more time with my grandpa to make him happier… only I don’t really have time to begin with. I could just move away so I don’t have to listen to him complain but then I would have to pay rent. There’s always a trade-off. Drying off, I continued to think about how to set my boundaries and tell him that his idea of hard work is moving sugar bags back and forth across the backyard and this isn’t Soviet Russia, you deranged man. I digressed, quite a lot, several times. As I was brushing my teeth I laughed a little about how long I’d been thinking but quickly became annoyed with how much meditating I could’ve been doing or at least how much thinking about other things I could’ve been doing. As I opened the door the steam followed me out and I saw the back of his head peering from around his Lazy Boy. God damnit.
“Good morning, how’d you sleep?” I asked, already knowing the answer was-
“eh, so-so,” grandpa sighed, just like I knew he would.
“really? aw man, i’m sorry” I repeated for the 80 thousandth time since moving here.
From there, my grandpa told me he needed me to be around later to help my cousin move a mattress in his room because his other bed isn’t comfortable. (My grandfather has gone through — I’m not exaggerating — about twenty mattresses in a five year span, looking for that one that is comfortable. This is the type of person we are talking about).
“I’ve gotta work today so I won’t be here” I retorted, like the snarky little brat I can be sometimes.
“I really need you”, he sank in his chair. I honestly saw it as nothing more than childish. I didn’t feel any sympathy, just pure impatience.
“I’m sorry, grandpa, is anybody else going to be able to help him?” I probed in an annoyed tone
“I haven’t asked” he sighed.
“Well, I hope you have a good day, grandpa” I said, detached.
I’ve purposely painted my grandpa as a sweet old man here, he’s not. Absolutely not, in fact, quite the opposite, but I do love him and I can recognize that part of him that is very vulnerable and has no idea what to do with dementia brain. He wants control over his life and no longer has it. This makes him frustrated and he is used to throwing a fit and getting what he wants if he can’t get it himself. That’s the ego I was fighting. That’s the ego I attracted, in fact. My ex. That was him sometimes, too. I think we all have it but it shows up differently, in different situations. In Astrology, this is the quintessential Aries reaction to adversity: impulsive, aggressive, and generally immature.
Now, the question is: where am I expressing this immaturity in my own life? I wouldn’t be seeing it in my grandpa if I were not expressing it to myself in some realm of mind. You can’t recognize something if you have no idea what you are looking for, so when you do recognize something, it’s probably because you know what you are looking at. Where do I want more control, but don’t have it? In which area of my life am I bitching and griping and needing attention?
Love, friendship, and my relationships in general. Instead of being the sacrificial lamb in my relationships, I should really try to be full of joy in everything I do. I really need to stop trying to be the martyr in my relationships to get attention for being perfect, and instead, be mindful of the happiness I am granted when I can manifest it for and/or with other people.
When I got home from work, I took a moment to sit with myself in my car. I could go in the house just to say “hi-bye”, or instead, I could go in with a receptive mindset, open to whatever was lurking behind that door. I decided to try the latter. Grandpa was in his chair and his hair looked slicked back because he’d just taken a shower.
“Wow, look at you! Where’d you go today?” I said, in a taunting and elevated voice.
His gummy smile made me smile while he reached one of his hands to the top of his head, slowly patting down any fly aways.
“No where, I just got my hair cut last week!” He giggled.
It was a couple of days ago, but since its Monday, he wasn’t wrong.
Turns out, he’d been waiting for my cousin to show up to move the mattress. My mom was on the front porch and I told her then like I told her that morning: “we can’t be bending over backward to grant grandpa’s every wish”. My grandma stepped outside and told us that my cousin wasn’t going to make it over to move the mattress. I honestly didn’t even want to help him move the damn mattress, but now I felt bad for grandpa. Not only had he not gotten to see his grandson but he also wasn’t going to have a good night’s sleep again. It’s just like every damn night, but still. Part of me wanted to just go be by myself, finally, but I recognized that I could improve this situation.
I suggested to my grandma that we put a topper on the pull-out sofa mattress. He’d bought it for the mattress we were supposed to move. She thought it was a really good idea because we all know grandpa just wants another bed to complain about. My mom, grandma, and me pulled pillows and cushions off the sofa to make the bed. I playfully rolled back and forth across the topper to make it expand because for some reason it stayed compressed even after being released from the vaccuum-seal. I made jokes the entire time about how I’d switch beds with whichever of them was going to sleep there (I live in a camper so this is a really hilarious joke). I was the grandkid again, not the adult trying to solve problems. We enjoyed each others company and it felt really good to project light instead of trying to pass it along, at the expense of my own supply.
Today, I processed layers of trauma by allowing all the emotions to exist and be acknowledged without judgement. The child in me wants for him to be happier. The woman in me wants to take care of him. The ego in me wants him to shut the fuck up and quit bitching. The abused girl in me feels guilty about the whole thing and also worries about when he will become more violent. But this observer just sees it and watches all those feelings go by, knowing that the lesson is in the surrender. The lesson is knowing this one is out of our hands and all we can do is keep trying to live in harmony while we still have some time together.
