I felt sobered the moment I walked in. It had been just a little over year since I had last seen my grandparents, but things felt palpably different. My grandmother, just turned 87 this March 31st, was now practically bedridden. My grandfather, just turned 90 two weeks before her, had worn himself down caretaking. Still adamant to do things himself, I watched him struggle to stand up from the couch, to reach down for a pen dropped on the floor. While I acknowledge that aging is a part of life, it doesn’t make it any easier to watch your loved ones slow down this way. When I entered my grandparents’ bedroom, I tried to hide my visible concern and disheartenment over the situation. As we chatted — me, my grandmother, my grandfather, and my aunt Kathleen — I felt my unease decrease, but never really disappear. read more