Zombies in the Cafeteria

My parents just came back from SoCal yesterday, where they were helping my grandparents move into an assisted care facility. Until this last weekend both my grandparent were in the hospital. A few weeks ago, during a morphine induced hallucination, my grandma decided that I was getting married in August (for the curious – congratulations are not in order). She’s fine now, but my grandpa, without the aid of any medication, refuses to eat in the cafeteria while church music is being played because the church music is used to subdue the zombies in there. He also occasionally refuses to eat and tells the orderly to give his food to the starving man outside who is a victim of the Russian Revolution. More recently, he has attempted to escape from the hospital. Is it just me, or is all of this kind of funny? If Grandma hadn’t snapped out of it, I probably would have done some smart-ass thing like write her to tell her that the wedding was off. Or better yet, send her a wedding invitation. And I have to say, I might just indulge Grandpa from time to time about the whole zombie thing (he’s not always like this; most of the time he’s lucid).

I have always worried that I don’t care about things enough. I remember during Sr. Retreat we were supposed to tell everyone what our number one fear was. Most people in my group said something like “death” or “my mom dying” or “failure” or whatever. But I said that my number one fear was living in apathy. Do I not have the emotional capacity to be sad over the death of a grandparent, to be worried when someone injures his/herself? I think that I do have strong emotions, they just never get channeled in those directions. I was thinking about what Kim said about wallowing. I’ve definitely wallowed before, but almost exclusively in self-pity. I just don’t feel anything when I think about my grandparents, or our financial issues, or my dad. A positive explanation is that I tend to beat myself up when I think that I could have done something differently, but when I sense that something is genuinely out of control, I’m flexible and understanding of the fact that some things just happen. My logic kicks in and I know that I can’t change anything; I can only deal with things as they occur. In this, I am like my mom. Either that, or I’m what people think I am – aloof, hard to read, selfish. I only get emotional over things that are within my personal sphere. Does not knowing my grandparents well excuse my lack of empathy for their situation? I’m not so sure. Perhaps I am my father’s daughter after all. One thing I do know for sure is that I manage to invest an awful lot of energy in being concerned over the fact that I don’t seem to care about much.

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