Not only that, but she attacks the boys, too, with subtle (but still mean) words - sometimes when they are here, and other times after they have been for a visit.
A month ago she was out of cards to send for birthdays and anniversaries, so Brian offered to go to the store for her and get the necessary cards for the rest of March and all of April.
He checked the list I made, which hangs on the pantry door, so as not to miss anyone, and then drove to her favorite dollar value venue for the cards.
The whole while he was gone she prattled on about how he wasn't going to do a good job: "He's not going to know what to get...the cards won't be right. How does he know who to buy for or what they will like? I won't be able to use them." Part of her reasoning for the doubt was that he is a boy, and 'boys don't know how to pick out cards.'
Oh, really?
Once he returned, he handed her the sack and she went through each one, smiling and approving and commenting affirmatively.
SO THERE!
"Thank you for going, these will be ok," was all she said. And I know, I should have been happy to hear that, Brian was ok with it.
Wow. I wasn't expecting handstands, but an acknowledgement of exceeding her expectations would have been nice. He has no idea how negative she was in his absence, or that she doesn't credit him in any way for the cards when she gets a compliment.
Weeks later she dug at that visit when she needed an excuse to qualify her anger during a current temper tantrum saying "I didn't ask your boys to come and eat here, but they did!" This was after I didn't effusively insist that her youngest son stay for dinner. My sons could have just as easily stayed home instead of driving the distance to sit in 50% silence/50% repetitive statements.
The uncle dropped in for yet another unannounced visit (usually preceeded by a cell phone call from the parking lot, or from on the road two miles away) - these are most often at supper time...and probably after some sort of argument at home. He never talks, just grunts or hums or makes snide remarks that she doesn't get, and watches television with her sitting nearby thinking it's grand. Gram asked him to stay for dinner...asked if he was hungry...did he want to eat? over and over, but he declined saying he 'wasn't hungry,' that he 'had already eaten, no, no, no.' Still, it was my fault he didn't stay, and I drove him away. My fault! ?
Well, that was the lasting wedge she pounded into the grandparent/grandchild relationship, and it has remained firmly embedded. Like a popcorn kernel you just can't floss out, but you can feel it. The pressure, the irritation, the collection of crud building up around it.
Of all of the mean-spirited, loosely tossed verbal hand grenades she has lobbed over the last (nearly) two years, the latest were becoming very personal - and mostly unwarranted. I am not certain I am going to be able to cry at her funeral; certainly I am *not going to hold fond memories* after she has gone, and *that, I feel, is the the worst part. I am becoming aware that she has been like this for her entire life, and that as a child I never saw it. As a young adult and grandchild I was not privvy to it or the target of it, of course (at least, not to my knowledge).
However, in these twilight days, at 98, the growing dementia (faint as it may be), and the encroachment of limitations on her everyday activities and desires (the loss of driving privileges, less mobility, a slowing of functions, bodily aches and pains - the general accumulation of maladies now suffered for having lived an extremely long life with poor preparations), her anger and confusion are now aimed outwardly at those who are with her for days at a time.
I know this. I see it. I don't like it, and I am having a hard time accepting it when a nasty comment is thrown at my head. So I comment and tell her I don't appreciate it, and that she may want to take stock of what it is she is bitter over. This only serves to fuel the fire.
I do what I must and take care of the things I am to do while there, but as for sitting by her side for hours on end any more...I don't do it. I do not silently watch movies or shows she clicks through with the sound off (or, occasionally blaring). I can't watch the movie if I have to read the conversation...it isn't a movie any more that way. Besides, I could be looking for work online, or corresponding, or writing, or reading, or quilting - which I do a lot of. And now that the weather has improved, I am out for walks to try and get back to where I should be - where I used to be - which is another nasty set of comments she likes to hurl.
She is not happy until others around her are unhappy. I don't get it, but I know I can arrive with a fresh outlook and a "start over" attitude, and she quickly does her level best to erase the smiles. Sadly, I am beginning to sink to her level almost immediately.
It is just as I remember it, visiting my grandparents as a child, and the arguments were sometimes already thick in the air...and you never knew why. Grandpa would instantly be on his feet and out the door (or sometimes, already absent), escaping to his lovely garden in the backyard. I would marvel at the hours he would spend, bent over the plants, pulling weeds from the ground, hoe-ing and humming - or whistling.
She would fly to a window and say something loudly, but not directly to him, and then get madder when there was no response - just his continued humming or whistle.
Now I get it. I hear you, Grampa.
He had his escape mechanism to survive, just like me. It is like there's no time lost.
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