Mother’s Day Without Crazy Grandma

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My grandma is sitting in a nursing home right now. She might be looking out the window with a pastel colored sweater hanging over her shoulders, or a crocheted blanket laying loosely on her legs while she watches the blue jays and cardinals eat from the bird feeder I might have bought for her last Mother’s Day but, my grandma is no ordinary grandma. She is most likely cussing at the staff, maybe even hitting them, in a rage of anger stemmed from an imaginary event she has concocted, and genuinely believes.

It’s hard to explain the complexities of her personality, although I am sure she has multiples. There have been times in which I was so overcome with her kindness I felt like I was going to hell for having had bad thoughts about her. My first semester in college she had a cake and flowers delivered to my dorm room for my birthday. It was completely unexpected and one of the nicest things she had ever done for me for my birthday. When I called to thank her I could tell she was proud of herself, proud of her abilities to surprise me. I spent a good half hour making up stories about how my whole dorm flocked to me and devoured the cake, after my own gratitude wasn’t enough.

When she was down, she was down. My husband, baby son, and I had stopped by to visit my grandparents. She was in an off mood, but sometimes, if you gave compliments, her mood could be reversed. I used my complimenting ways successfully in the past but this particular day it didn’t work. Before we knew it, she tried to push me against the wall by choking me. She had her hand around my neck and she was pushing with all her might. It didn’t hurt. I was actually afraid to move because I thought she might fall and hurt herself. When she was unsuccessful with me, she threw a flashlight at my husband’s head who was holding my baby boy in his arms. As we were trying to leave she followed us out to the driveway, throwing my things in our direction. She even threw my stroller at me. As we started to drive away, she punched the car door and held up her bloody hand.

“You did this!”

My son was crying in the backseat, my husband was sighing and I was silent. It wasn’t her first outburst but I swore it would be the last one I would see.

Since she has been in the nursing home, I have not seen her. In fact I haven’t seen her in two years. I talked to her twice before she accused me of killing my grandpa and having her dogs taken away. She broke her back while in a rehab facility after a different operation. She was forced from her home into nursing care. I wouldn’t have even known where she was if it wasn’t for a nurse who knew me that contacted me.

I can imagine that she is spinning some sad story about how I’m an evil woman and have abandoned her. If she has an audience she will say that I hate her, stole her money, tried to kill her, and stole her car. It’s not any of those things. I am respecting my grandpa’s last wishes of having nothing to do with her. She is cruel, manipulative and I swear possessed.

This Mother’s Day, my grandma is most likely sitting in her room, watching her shows, looking for an ear to spread more rumors about me and wishing that someone did come see her, if only so she could yell at them for not bringing the right flowers.

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