I wanted to cry

Leanne took me to see her grandmother the other day; that's why I haven't blogged the last few days. I guess I needed time to ... put it behind me. I mean, I'm pleased she trusts me enough to do that ... well, part of me's pleased, the other part's kinda freaked out. Taking a boyfriend to visit your sick grandmother, that says something. Doesn't it? I mean, I'm not looking for a lifetime partner yet. But I don't want to piss her off by saying that. Whatever I said, I'd be screwed. I'm probably misreading the whole situation anyway.

That wasn't what I wanted to talk about. Hey, I didn't even know that was bugging me until now -- I guess they're right about this whole get your thoughts down on paper thing.

Anyway, what I wanted to talk about was her grandmother. She's in a home. God, that was depressing in itself. I mean, it was a nice place, not a dump, but ... all those old, out-of-it folks, sitting there staring into space.

Her gran's got Alzheimer's. We sat with her a while. She didn't know Leanne. Mostly she just sat there. Every now and then she'd say something, a word, a phrase, completely out of left field. After a while Leanne got a book out, one of those big coffee table books. It was full of pictures of cats. She put it on her gran's lap and turned the pages, and the old lady brightened up, and every now and then she'd point to one of the pictures and say something random.

Leanne cried when we left. Hell, I didn't even know the lady, and I wanted to cry.