The Delicate Art of Caring

A few months ago I was really evaluating my life. I was unhappy and I had no reason to be. I have a supportive, wonderful and healthy family. We live in a safe and beautiful home. I am healthy. I have a good career. We are stable. Our child is joyful and thriving.

I thought about my Grandma. She is almost 90. She has a brain condition called Ataxia that causes her to feel dizzy 95% of her day...everyday...and her language is always broken and slow. But I asked myself, how is my Grandma always smiling? She’s always giggling the best little giggle...the same one she has done our whole lives. Despite her condition and being in a wheelchair, she made her way from Missouri to Colorado to see us when she was 88 years old. The woman has lost a husband and a Son...my Father, before he was even 50 years old.

And yet...She. Is. So. Damn. Happy.

Here I am with my two Grandma's. The one mentioned here is the one in the zebra/flower scarf. The other will get a very well-deserved post soon. I am lucky.

I started thinking about the care she gets. Primarily from my cousin, Ashley. Or as I call her, Heart of Gold Ashley. Ashley does my Grandma’s hair. Fluffs it up and brushes it just perfectly and keeps her feeling as beautiful as she is. She holds my Grandma’s chin steady and puts makeup on her beautiful crystal blue eyes. She holds my Grandma’s perfectly delicate hands and feet and gives her elaborate pedicures and manicures. She uses her muscles day in and day out to physically hold and support my Grandma in every movement she makes. She feeds her. She laughs with her. She makes sure she holds her Great-Grandbabies on her lap as much as possible. She lays in bed with her and talks. About everything under the sun.

I realized I’ve been underestimating the power of physical touch and simply listening in my definition of care. And that in our life of rush, my husband and I were not taking the time to slow down and really care for one another as holistically as we, personally, would like to. 

I would feel frustrated and say things like ‘I take care of everything here! I do the grocery shopping, I do your laundry, I clean out the fridge and deal with all school and child related needs!’ to which he’d counter me with something like ‘well I deal with the dogs and make our coffee every morning and take the trash out and handle paying bills!’ Our explanations of caring for one another were being based on functional things necessary to the daily runnings of a household. 

We had forgotten the simple but powerful feeling that comes from holding hands. The comfort that comes from feeling your back being rubbed after a long day. From feeling a hand go through your hair while you wash the dishes. Or just by sitting together, even in silence, and being physically relaxed and present.

Maybe I’m the only one not doing these things and I have a cold heart (ha!), but I suspect that’s not the case. So, personally, in the hustle and bustle of life, I’m trying my best to grab his hand more often. To hug him when I first see him in the mornings. To grab his butt sometimes as we’re folding laundry (which is together more often these days)….and to remember that at the end of the day, as strong as we all may seem, nothing really beats the power of human touch.

Thank you Ashley, for being the best caregiver our Grandma could ever have, and for reminding me of a really damn important lesson. We love you.

And to bring it all together, here is my wonderful husband lifting my Grandma into our car. Love. Armpit sweat mark included for extra wow factor. Ha!