This is special

My grandmother is very suddenly very ill. She has changed so much just over the past few weeks that my mother has recommended (and I believe, rightly so) that Maya not visit her in the nursing home where she's staying. She's insistent that she wants her grandchildren to remember this GG:

And that's just it. That's my grandma. She's barely changed in many senses, since I was Maya's age. When her grandchildren (and now great-grandchildren) walk into a room, she becomes the most engaged, playful, happy, and just plain FUN person.

So this weekend, I left Maya at home and went to visit grandma. For convenience more than anything else, I took Cora with me. When we arrived, I admit, the changes in my grandmother were pretty shocking. It's only been a couple of weeks since I saw her, but it's very difficult for her to communicate now. After staying for about an hour, it was clear that she's still pretty engaged in the conversations going on around her, but she can't participate. Even the single word phrases that she utters after much thought and struggle are difficult for the hearer to understand.

When we first walked in, we handed her a picture that Maya had drawn for her of hearts, rainbows, and teddy bears ("because I couldn't figure out what GG would like the best"). Grandma held that in her hand for the first several minutes we were there. When she spotted Cora, she said, completely clearly, "Hi Cora!" with a smile in her voice. The group of family chatted around grandma for several minutes before I sat down next to the bed with Cora on my lap.

Shortly, grandma reached out her hand to us. I held her hand. She squeezed. Then she let go. And held out her hand again. Clearly, she wanted Cora's hand. I encouraged Cora to hold her GG's hand. She was shy, but eventually she did. And GG squeezed her hand. And Cora giggled. Then GG squeezed again. And Cora giggled. Then they played, in the most basic, fundamental way that humans can play. This game was simple. GG would hold out her hand. Cora would put her hand inside GG's hand. GG would squeeze. Then let go. Then move her hand (always nearby, always tempting). And Cora would put her hand inside GG's hand again. And it would continue. They played for a few minutes. Then Cora would (as toddlers will) wander off to explore something else. If she wandered back nearby, GG would reach out to her in an offer of play. They would vary the game (Cora would offer her wrist or her arm; they played briefly with Cora's toy sword). But always play.

I thought to myself, "this is special." No one took a picture. No one took a video. No one needed to. This moment was etched on my brain from this instant it happened. My lesson (which my grandmother has been teaching me my entire life):

This moment, this seemingly ordinary most basic moment -- it's special. Be here. Be present. And play.