Four related women, but oh so different

Mom-my mother, early 50’s but refusing to accept that. Housewife. Mother to many.
Grandma-Mom’s mom, 69 years and 9 months. Recently divorced. Discovering independence.
Phyllis-Grandma’s sister, 72. WV Church of God preacher-enough said.
Me-23. 2 months and 6 days from my wedding. Transitioning to a summer with family.

Mom, Grandma and I left Ohio after putting Aaron on a plane for the twin cities with the final destination of Sioux Falls, SD for his CPE site. We picked up Phyllis in WV and headed for the beach. We got here and were able to enjoy a few hours of lying in the sun. The next two days were unseasonably cold, 55-60 for highs, and wet. Mom and I spent them reading, drinking and shopping. Today, finally, 75 and sunny. Tonight it’s dinner then bottles of wine on the beach for Mom and I. Tomorrow we have an extended checkout in order to get 3 hours of fun in the sun before we leave.

This morning Phyllis gets up and talks LOUDLY on the phone before 7. at 7:30 she decides we need to wake up and enters our room screaming, “Get up girls, it’s sunny, get out to the beach!” I answered, “Phyllis, get away!” When I wanted to say, “Phyllis, fuck!” I stopped myself and later told Mom of this urge. We wondered when the last time she heard that word and her name in the same sentence.

While catching the rays I finished reading The Notebook. I can’t imagine the pain of watching a lover be affected by Alzheimer’s disease. A few years ago I watched my other grandma do this and it was visibly very painful. But the details of love described bring it to a new level, as do my feelings for Aaron. Realizing that we’ll get old and watch each other’s health deteriorate is hard. I question my willingness to spend this summer apart. What about later in life when the thought of a summer given up will seem the most foolish thing I’ve done. Yes, we talk a few hours a day, but it’s not the same. How can a disease be so cruel? Which is worse, losing your memories or excruciating pain? I’d have to say losing memories. For now, Aaron and I are blessed with health, but I think about Grandma and cry.