when we had...

... time on our hands: or more accurately, I had both excess time and an auntie on my hands between the two doctor appointments on Wednesday, I wondered what we would do. And decided we should go to Q'town and visit the cemetery. I go several times a year, to change out flowers on graves and be sure everything is tidy. Perverse? Well, maybe. But raised by people who cared for their forebears, and would visit when close enough to stop by for a 'howdy' even if the elders were not precisely sitting on the front porch drinking lemonade. Instead, the ancestors were tidily interred, contentedly resting in repose waiting for the 'rising up' day.

I am not at all uneasy or fearful of cemeteries (though I have yet to visit one at midnight on All Hallows Eve! That is just asking for trouble!), and have been in many over my life. Often traveling with grandparents when they would plan to visit family members including the occasional detour to honor the departed.This  might not be a universal occurrence, but I think it is pretty common in the south. Those same folks who continue to frantically wave the banner of The Lost Cause, tend to remember those generations long gone who were the participants.

It was quite surprising when the auntie thanked me repeatedly for the drive through the rural farm land, and short visit to the place of her birth. Her short term memory has been so unreliable, I really did not expect she would be that aware, or have any knowledge of our jaunt after we returned to Valdosta.  As we were driving back she began to question me about our family, saying she knew that her parents were gone, but she did not know anything about my family. I told her my dad had died almost twenty years ago, and my mom (her sister) had been deceased nearly ten years. She was very surprised to hear this, and asked repeatedly why no one had told her they had both died. Since all this occurred many years ago, it is obvious she just cannot remember anything.

Then I told her I had some more really sad news: and reminder her that my brother died as well. Even though this was not 'new' news, and I have shared this with her on other occasions, she was very upset. Could not accept that, repeatedly saying what a 'good boy' he was. With that last bit of bad news, she pretty much freaked out and was well past being able to control her distress, emotional wreckage.

She had another doctor appointment but was soooo agitated, I realized that we did not need to attempt that. I took her back to the facility where she has been a resident for over a year, and left her there. She was visibly disturbed, and could not calm down - even though she likely could not recall the reason. It is distressing to see her so distraught, when she gets so worked up and emotional about something - in the way a small child will start to cry, sobbing so they cannot stop, even if they cannot tell what the source of the anxiety is. Hopefully the staff members who care for her and deal with extended outbursts daily are  more adept at calming and reassuring her. She was frantic, and I was at my wit's end.