On Saturday, I saw an 8 year old cousin. I greeted Veah as one greets family, and she said, "Who are you?" I held this little girl when she was a baby, and she did not remember me. What followed her initial question was a hilarious conversation that could be summarized by Veah's assertion that I was a "stalker" because I know so much about her and she has no clue who I am.
I laughed. I wanted to cry. I thought, "Time can be a bitch."
Today, I greeted my 84 year old Grandma as a granddaughter greets her grandmother. I asked, "Do you know who I am, Grandma?" She could not remember me. What followed my question was my name and statements about my relation to her. She held me when I was a baby, and I told her my name.
We sat. She fell asleep. I cried. I thought, "Time is a bitch."
I know that consistent contact with my nieces, nephews, and little cousins can help them remember. I know that I cannot prevent my Grandmother from forgetting. I also know that it is the privilege of lifetime to be loved well, deeply, and hard by a Grandmother. How privileged am I? How privileged are all the Gray grandchildren?
My Grandmother naps as I sit and write. I laugh. I cry. I think, "Time is a gift."
