A little over two years ago I woke up in my children's bedroom for the first time in more than three decades.
I wasn't home just for the visit. In fact, I didn't even go back to my parents. At 41, I moved in with my 88-year-old grandmother to take care of her. (I call her Mamaw, like all good Texas kid would.)
My family knew from the beginning that one day the Mamaws would no longer be able to live alone. Since my grandmother refused to give up her house, I offered run over.
It made sense for me to move to mommy
When I was a child, Mom, Mom and I lived together in this house. Mom looked like second parent to me. For four years she taught me the joys of old musicals and card games that were too difficult for seven-year-olds.
Now that I'm over 40, I'm living with Mamaw again because it makes the most sense. The logistics were much simpler than my mother uprooting her life and taking over primary caregiver role.
The author and her grandmother. Courtesy of Ginny Pruett
As a single person with no kids and no mortgage, it made sense for me to move here. Not having to worry about selling the house or uprooting family to move in with Mamo made the process relatively simple—aside from moving all the books.
Luckily, I'm not doing this alone. My family came up with their own version sandwich generation. The recent layoff made my work situation a little more difficult as Mamo needed extra care. Now my mom comes over almost every weekday to take care of home visits, appointments, and other caregiving tasks while I work and look for a job.
Living with grandma isn't easy, but there are bright spots
I'm not trying to be a martyr here. Moving in with Mamo wasn't some selfless sacrifice for which I expect a pat on the back. I genuinely enjoy her company and we get along great when she's not skipping lunch or using my cat napping on her lap as an excuse not to do physical therapy.
I introduced her to the integrity that is “Great British Bake Off “and the brutality of playoff hockey, and hell, she was even strangely fascinated by watching my marathon Animal Crossing sessions.”
However, don't get me wrong: it's not always easy. There are doctor's appointments, home health appointments – all while trying to juggle work appointments and the constant struggle to make sure she's eating and drinking enough.
I've enjoyed the last few years I've spent with her.
Now that she is 90 years old, it is hard to ignore the changes I have noticed in her health in just these two short years.
Circumstances brought us together again and again over the years. She has been there for me more times than I can count and I am so glad that I am in this position to be able to return the favor.
Plus, who else would watch Jepardy with me every weeknight?
