OK, I chose this because Sunday is in the title and Billie Holiday sings it. But I also chose it ’cause it reminded me of one of the last conversations with my grandmother before dementia slowly destroyed her memories. She and I were sharing my half-sister’s queen-size bed, both there for Christmas. I don’t recall what we talked about that brought out beautifully honest, sad and prophetic words from her.
Her husband, my beloved Grandpa, had died several years prior to this bedtime confession. As much as I love you all, she said, I want to be with your grandfather. I miss him. But I know I’ll fade slowly from dementia. My mother did, and I will too. I just want to be with him.
I told her it was OK. I understood. And I did. And she faded ever so slowly. I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but she did, and I hope as she finally slipped away her wasted mind cleared to show Grandpa waiting to relive a favorite day with her.