Ask me if I care this morning? Nope! Friday night we were with Pappy until 11p, Saturday night we were at the Centurions party and didn't get to bed until 2am and last night I spent the night holding Pappy's hand so he didn't try to get out of bed. Needless to say I'm really looking forward to nap time today and am hoping that this little jaunt to the park will result in at least a 2 hour nap! The least of my current concerns is the tidiness of my raga-muffins.
Friday night after leaving Pappy's, my sister-in-law and I decided to sneak over to Applebees to toast the night with a half price cocktail. It's rare that we get a chance to be together without at least two kids in tow so we jumped on the opportunity despite our already weary state. Our conversation was very interesting, we were talking about family values and the guilt that can accompany not following your instincts even when your actions are polar opposite to the situation. Let me explain: Pappy has spent most of his life a hardened isolist. That's not to say that he wasn't surrounded by family but if you turned your back, Pappy would slip out without so much as a good-by. He was never one to initate a hug and would often only return it with a stiff one arm over the shoulder. He enjoyed watching the grandkids play but was not a cuddly grandpa. He covered every inch of his home with family pictures and in general, spent more time looking at the pictures than with the people in the images.The conundrum this is leading up to is comfort in his final hours. When my grandfather was at this state years ago, he was never left alone in his room and always had at least one of us holding his hand. But, he was a physically affectionate person and thus raised my mom the same way who in turn raised me to be so. My core instincts are to treat Pappy the same. I find it difficult to see Pappy and not hold his hand or rub his back, so I do. He doesn't often push me away and many times grips onto my hand until some portion of my leg or arm is completely asleep. The question is though, is this comfort for me or for him? Are his reactions a genuine comfort with my touch or just simply an uncontrollable physical reaction from a failing body. If he were mentally aware, would he move away from my hand, tell me to leave him to sleep or to go home? Knowing how he was in previous years before the cancer took hold, maybe he would. I guess there's no way to really answer any of those. For now, I want to believe for my own sake that he does find comfort in the physical affection and on some level appreciates my ease of touch toward someone who spent most of his life choosing to be physically reserved. Maybe it's just to ease my own guilt. Guilt that, if he would prefer me not to touch him, is completely misplaced, yet because of my upbringing, it's guilt I'm wracked with none the less.
(Thank goodness the sangrias come in the fish bowl glasses, it was a heavy topic! Then again, maybe it's a good thing the topic was heavy so we had time to process the alcohol before going home.)
My kids are either going to grow up immune to guilt because I over do it or they're totally screwed and will feel guilt like I do only magnified from their own upbringing.
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