Laughing In Her Sleep

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She sees right through me... Gives me a hint of a smile, raising her eyebrows as if she had a question to ask rather than just to mimic the moves I make. She sees right through me and I search her eyes hopeful to see if any part of her remembers me and knows I'm there. I hold her hand and brush a kiss against her cheek, trying not to cry even as the tears steam down my face.

It breaks my heart to see her so helpless. Unable to do more than sit in her chair and wait. Wait to be moved from one spot to another, wait to be wheeled down to the dining room for dinner, wait to be wheeled back to be put to bed for the night. She's so tiny and frail... Too small to be the formidable woman I've always known her to be. My Grams... Dangerous with a cane, quick with words and independent to her core. Too much of everything to be reduced so dramatically before my eyes.

Grieving is a process that starts long before the body stops. My Mother has been grieving for months... And I know that a week just isn't long enough to help lift the sorrow from her shoulders, for me to remember every last line on my Grandma's face...

And so she sleeps... Sometimes muttering in a language that is all her own until she smiles and laughs deep in sleep, far away in dreams.