Family

(Looks as if it's now saving; I hope it continues. But gawd, I'm getting more and more verbose, plus of course, the damn print is going back and forth, but I'm just sick of fooling with it, so I'm letting it lie.)

When we Zoomed on Friday, Pat R. asked if I had heard from Muckie D. lately, or if Betty had. That prompted me to called Muckie and we had a good talk. She said Betty used to call her almost every day, but she hadn't lately. I had called Betty on New Year's Day and left a message, but she didn't call me back, either.

Muckie doesn't go out at all. Her son, Matthew, who lives in Virginia, calls to have her groceries delivered (why she doesn't call, I don't know). I don't know how she can live that way--she spent Christmas alone, too--but she seemed reasonably cheerful. To an extent, her physical problems have been resolved, but she said she was often tired.    Anyway, it was good to talk to her. She said she'd call Betty in the evening and I'm sure she did.

I called Betty back; it seems she didn't realize I had left a message. I tried to get her on video Messenger, but it kept saying her iPad camera was off and she didn't know how to turn it on. Later, Carolyn came in and got it going, so we were able to see each other.

My friend, Gail, also called. I hadn't been in touch with her since September partly because I had been away the whole month of October. She was excited to hear I had been at the Grand Canyon because she plans to spend her seventieth birthday there next year. (She dreads turning 70, but these things are relative, natch.)

Later, Betty called me again. She was very agitated and asked me to call Carolyn, which I did and we had a long, sorrowful talk and cried together. I asked what I could do, she said to Messenger Betty today, maybe between 9 and 10, as nobody comes in on Sunday. I will, of course. Later, I looked up some children's quizzes, printed some out, and I'll ask Betty the easier ones ("What's the opposite of dark?), which I think she'll enjoy.

The big one came at 7:00. I had been a bit worried about the Zoom setup, but it worked perfectly. Niece Chrissy asked for admittance to the meeting, I affirmed, and there were Jimmy, Therese, and Chrissy, eight thousand miles away. (Paul came in the room just to say hello.)

I had poured myself a glass of Merlot, but it was only 10 am on Sunday for them, so they abstained. We talked and talked and laughed and sighed and asked each other questions and noted each other's faces and a bit about the apartment. I had been sure Jim's birthday was this month, but no, it's February 19; I think Frank's 86th is actually in January. I was told Jim and family got the letter I sent last month, but so far, no Christmas card. Okay, for Easter, then...

We stayed on for about 45 minutes, seeing and hearing each other clearly over a span of  eight thousand miles. I know they enjoyed it; for me, it was about equal parts fun and heartbreak, but I guess that's what having a family is. Jimmy--we always called him that--was pretty fuzzy and vague, and when we talked about Betty's and Frank's conditions, he said he thought he had the same. 

No. He doesn't. I'm no neurologist, but there's a fundamental difference.  It has partly to do with a basic awareness, I think, of one's place in the universe. I don't mean that literally, of course, but Jimmy knows it and they don't.