Today I’m going to share a little about loss and what Marcus teaches me about how to deal with death and grief.
Grandma just moved into her new apartment so we went to to the store and meandered ever so slowly down the aisles to gather her list. A new toilet brush (though there were house-keepers cleaning the apartment), a gallon of bleach (don’t argue), crackers and snacks (to supplement the three complete meals served daily).
To be fair, she was also healing from heart surgery, so Marcus and I walked each careful step beside her.
Skip ahead to: shopping complete.
Marcus and Grandma waited outside the door while I pulled the car up to the curb. We unloaded the groceries and, as is the custom, Marcus headed off to do his duty of returning the cart.
I helped Grandma into the car and moved into the driver seat. I saw Marcus go in and could feel from the distance a little confusion. What he’s used to is a cart corral outside, but since we were so close to the front he took the cart inside. When he walked through the doors he could see to his left where the cards were corralled, but that area was blocked off. He had to continue through another set of double doors to return the cart, then proceed to the exit doors to come out. Little tricky. I could see him trying to work this out. I waited. I knew he would. And he did.