I Haz a Cuzin, Nom Nom Nom and Change = Theresa FAIL

My SIL posted about their visit last weekend and it's all articulate and poetic and her photos rock and everything so please read that.

Then scroll down and look at my photos which tell the same story: Liliane and my nephew Asher (who is cute enough to eat, sorry about those toes, buddy) were completely mesmerized by one another.

As Bari said, we did a lot of hanging around in pajamas and working around nap schedules. And eating. Now THOSE would have been some good pictures. We ate well.

And there was a bath.

And Uncle Matthew was in charge.

The only person Asher liked more than Liliane was Uncle Stéphane.

Toys! Awesome!

There was a lot of smiling.

Until we tried to set up a picture and then it was all "wha-?"

'kay dude, we are OUTTA here.

They headed back on Monday afternoon (Liliane would packed herself in one of their suitcases if she could have) and we've been talking about Asher ever since. A lot of "where is Asher?" and "is Asher sleeping?" etc. Good thing we're going down to NYC next month for another dose of the baby love.

In other news... My grandmother is actually doing really well. She's still in the hospital but the bleeding seems to have stopped and she's stabilizing. Looks like the best idea is for her to move into an assisted living facility although it's not clear yet what level of care she will need. My grandfather will of course move with her so that means that they won't be living in their house anymore.

So funny how news like that sorta hangs out in my subconscious and quietly wreaks havoc. It's actually really positive when you think about it logically. They are going to be together, my grandmother is physically strong and moving towards being healthy plus she's in good spirits.

Where I get stuck is the idea that they won't be in their house anymore. The house where I learned to walk, where I spent the night before my wedding, where I played countless games of Skil-Roll and crokinole. Where I admired my grandmother's garden and ate my weight in raisin bread at the kitchen table and passed the turkey a hundred times in the dining room.

Their house is one of my first stops when I go back to Vancouver. At the beginning it was a meal or two and over the years as their energy waned, I used to just drop in for coffee and a chat. This last Christmas we let Liliane run all over their place one afternoon and I am so very glad to have all those pictures, all those memories.

I know it's only a place. But it's a touchstone, a rock in my increasingly far-reaching personal landscape. And it's not easy to accept that I won't have that anymore. That they won't be there for me anymore.

Ouch. How selfish. But that's where I'm at, it's all about me. I'm such a jerk. But it's my blog, so. Yeah.

ANYWAY, waiting to hear what the next step is. Unable to respond to the inevitable "what do you want to keep from the house?" Which is funny because my Grandmother particularly has been insisting over the last few years that everyone identify what they want to keep. "Put your tape on it" has become a bit of an inside family joke. They have spent enough time looking after older and infirm relatives and disposing of other people's stuff once they pass that they wanted to be organized when the time came. Well, thankfully they are both still here, but it seems like that time has come.

So that's that. Here in Quebec we have our provincial holiday next Thursday so that's a day off plus I am supersizing my weekend and taking Friday off also. Hoping that construction next door is finally done so I can clean off the back patio once and for ALL. Not holding my breath.

I have an idea for a Wordless Wednesday post so check back in a couple of days!