Bill and Barb

So this weekend, Grandma Number Two (dad's mom) moved to Spearfish. (Grandma Number One already lives here, in the nursing home, since she had a stroke about a year and a half ago.) My Grandma T, the one that moved this weekend, is much more mobile and actually in good health. The problem is, she has a bit of dimentia, so living on her own is becoming more of a problem. She was in an apartment building for older people before, so they had some organized activities and meals, but she still had to be pretty independent. Unfortunately, there was a scummy 40-something caretaker guy that took advantage of that. He was asking her for money, never huge amounts because my aunt watches it pretty closely, but still. And always hanging out in her apartment, chain smoking. And the managers of the building didn't seem to care. So, needless to say, everyone decided it was best that she move here, where there's more family and more people to look out for her. There's a wonderful facility, actually just like two blocks from our house, that has three meals a day, lots of activities (painting classes, Wii tournaments, wine and cheese nights - jeez, I might move in!), and residents still get to have their own small apartments.

So we were helping move her stuff in all day Saturday while she was out exploring the hills with my cousin and aunt (the home said it's best for patients with dimentia to come only after everything is moved in, because it can be understandingly overwhelming). My job was to organize her whole closet and her eight or nine jewelry boxes. It was pretty cool, actually. There wasn't anything that valuable, just sentimental - old costume jewelry, my grandpa's cuff links and pocket watch, some rings my great aunt hand painted. I found a silver pendant with my baby picture in it, and the shell casing from my grandpa's military funeral. I also got to look through lots of old photos. I found the above one of my grandma and grandpa when they were young, and I think it's lovely. My grandpa was always my kindred spirit in a way (bookish, creative, traditional, stubborn, particular) and I still can't look at pictures of him, 14 years after he died, without heart pangs. My grandma still has the same spirit as in that picture, dry-witted and playful. And I hope to see her a lot now that she's closer.