under construction.

Yuck, this is hard. It’s gross. Yuck.

Ten years after my divorce and about four years after Frannie died, I’m finally going through photos and my writing about the experiences. Some things are sending my nervous system into a panic and some are telling me to get in my truck and dissociate at Goodwill instead of making this website.

Welcome to the story about my 3+ years as live-in caregiver for my grandmother. My writing will generally refer to her as Frannie. A month after I move in I was no longer her granddaughter. She saw me as her best friend, worst enemy, and replacement husband. I was anything but favorite granddaughter, like before I moved in. I’ll refer to her as “my person” instead of “loved one.” I stopped loving her when I was in it. Maybe you stopped loving your person too. It’s taken four years after her death for me to understand what we had. It’s why I kept a journal at all, so I wouldn’t beat myself up when it was over. I wrote daily morning notes for myself before I opened my bedroom door. She would be sitting at the kitchen table with coffee. If the sun wasn’t shining I was greeted with, “It’s going to be a miserable day.” My logo here is a cleaned up version of a jar of pickles I drew for my nephew. I wrote, “Today I made pickles with G.G.”

All of the photos will be from before (pre-2018), during (2018-2022), and after (2022-present) Frannie. Most of the photos won’t match the writing, but I’ll have brief descriptions for each one. The “before” is just as important as the during and after. Some photos will be used as writing prompts for a blog post. I want to share the nuances of caregiving and bring other caregivers some peace within that while allowing myself to move through and forward.

I’m also fine with being human and making a mess of this. Better done than perfect.