Gentle reminder: visit your grandma or grandpa a bit more often

Look me straight in the eyes and ask what I love to do on a day off, and I can name a hundred things. Sleeping in. Lunching with friends. Cuddling with the cats on the couch. Finally starting that series everyone is talking about. Tidying up the house a bit. Taking a face mask and going to take a bath. Answering a few emails that I've been procrastinating on for a while. Shopping. It sounds very painful, but ‘visiting grandma’ is not necessarily the first thing that comes to mind.

And I notice that sometimes I can suddenly feel very guilty about it.

Today I woke up and suddenly thought: fuck it, I'm taking a piece of homemade cake, getting on my bike, and going to my grandma. And the stupid thing is: while cycling, I already feel guilty. When was the last time? I can't remember it right now. I park my bike in the rack, press the intercom, and hear her distinctive voice:

‘Yes hello, who is there?’

‘Grandma, it's me, Kiki.’

‘Who?!’

‘Kiki!’
‘Kiki?!’

‘Yes eh, Kiki.’

‘Oh, oh, Kiki, oh, how nice. Ooooh, I really didn't expect that. I'm opening the door now.’

I'm still outside and have to bite the inside of my cheek. A lot is going through my mind. ‘You're an egoist.’ ‘Yes, but I'm here now.’ ‘Yes, but you should have been here much earlier.’ ‘Yes, but sometimes it takes a moment to realize that.’ And so my inner optimist ping-pongs with my critic. Once inside at grandma's, the mixed feelings continue. She looks different. Has lost weight. Talks differently. Says she forgot her bra. She repeats sentences a bit more often. She doesn't remember well how the coffee machine works. I don't really either; I never make filter coffee. ‘Oh grandma, there needs to be water in the back. Look, that's why it doesn't work.’

We're sitting on the couch, eating cake and drinking coffee. We're actually talking about nothing and yet about something. About trips we've taken. About things we find annoying. About those candies my uncle bought for her and how delicious they are. Or if I want to look out the window for a moment, at those children who are playing so sweetly over there. They do that every morning. ‘What day is it, Kiki?’ ‘It's Thursday.’ ‘Oh, really? I thought it was Sunday.’ ‘Look grandma, you have a very handy clock there, it shows very clearly what day it is.’ I see the clock for the first time and it says in big letters ‘THURSDAY. 09:23 AM.’ Handy, that clock. If you don't forget to look at it, at least.

She talks about the daycare where she goes every Tuesday and Friday now. ‘Kiki, those people are not good, they let me draw. Isn't that childish? And recently they made us listen to very dramatic music.’ ‘But grandma, drawing is fun, right? And that way you stay a bit among people.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, that's true, but I complained about that dramatic music recently and then a woman came to me saying I shouldn't say that. But I do it anyway. I don't care what they think of me.’ She laughs. I see the inner rebel in her. I see my mother. I see myself.

I look at her and simultaneously think that I want to do this at least once a month. Maybe I should even pick a fixed date in my head. Put it in the agenda. I don't think it's weird, you know, wanting to do things on your day off that are primarily result-oriented for yourself, but on the other hand: this also gives me a good feeling. And I know she won't always be there anymore. What do I want with this somewhat vague story? No idea. Just venting my heart, I guess. Because that's what we're digital friends for too. And maybe not just reminding myself, but also you: just stopping by for an hour is not such a big deal, but it is for your grandpa or grandma. That could very well be the highlight of the week.

Cherish your grandparents while you still have them. IF you still have them. We're all busy, but sometimes you have to make time for others. And if you have trouble reminding yourself: set an alarm for once a week. Even if it's just a call.

See you soon, grandma.