Letting Go

Just a quickie today, for I’m a bit worn out.

This was the day that my parents, my uncle and I moved my grandmother out of the home she’s lived in for the last forty years. While I am pleased to know that she will now be living closer to me, thereby allowing me to enjoy her beautiful personality on a regular basis, I’m sad, too. I’m sad that my grandmother is sad. I’m sorry that she’s saying goodbye to the home that she made with my grandfather, whom she loved dearly. And I’m down-in-the-dumps because she knows that her last bit of independence is gone. She’s ninety-three. A good age. She’s done extremely well to have remained self-sufficient for this long. But it’s time she let someone take care of her, for a change. She’s taken care of us for a long, long time.

I’m proud of her, and I’m proud to be her granddaughter.

But today, I am sad.