I met Masako for our "lesson" after work today despite my feeling run-down and anti-nihongo. It's always nice to see her and she's my friend first, so I gave what I could and that was enough.
After reviewing some of the grammar from last week and a few new points, I switched to English entirely and leveled with her about my week. Talking someone you love from the ledge takes its toll and I needed to refuel, which I do sometimes with me-time and sometimes with lovely dinners like these. I also shared with her this story about my Naunie and I.
My grandfather passed away three years ago from cancer. Not wanting my last memories to be of him in the hospital, I visited my Papa and Naunie a lot in the year before his passing. I was working in an indie bookstore in San Francisco just before Christmas when we got the call that any loved ones wishing to say a final goodbye should make the necessary arrangements immediately. We spent that Christmas together in the hospital, watching my papa's favorite tv shows, telling stories, drawing pictures, filling in wacky Mad-libs. Bathed in love he held on until just after the new year. I took some bereavement time off and went to see my Naunie. We played our own versions of Scrabble and Yahtzee to draw out each game. And we talked a lot.
At some point over the days lost in old memories and word games, she looked at me squarely and said that I had been spending too much time with her. I'd been visiting too often, not looking after myself, and she wanted me to have fun with my friends and not come see her for awhile.
I am the most selfish person in my family, and probably the only one who knows that the best way to help others is to first take care of yourself. I told her the truth. That'd I'd been permitted a week off of work and took the first two days in SF, grieving in my way and filling myself up with the goodness and love of my dearest friends, so that I could come visit her and my dad and have more of myself to give. If I'd have come straight away, I wouldn't have been in a position to help anyone. "So you don't have to worry about me." I smiled. After that, a visible weight lifted from my grandmother and knowing how much she's been through, it filled me with unprecedented joy.
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