The Burden

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," I say as I'm wandering around the parking lot outside of the restaurant that Grandma and I had eaten at. I call my mother at work, "This is an emergency. I can't find Grandma. We were sitting down at lunch, and I was calling [Uncle], and she got pissed off and left. I thought she would just go to the car, but she's not there!"

"Okay, why would you call [Uncle]?"

"So, it's my fault that Grandma ran off!"

"No..."

"I called him to let him know what the doctor said, and he wants Grandma to move in with him. He wants her to stay in [Yuppieville]."

"Go look in the bathrooms. Did you look in the bathrooms?"

"No...Oh my god!" I let out a shriek. I thought I saw her headed towards the front of the restaurant, out the door.

I start walking back to the diner, and then I see her leaning against the front end of the SUV. "I found her."

"I don't want you to have an anxiety attack, okay? Just calm down."

"Alright." I hang up with Mom.

Grandma is rocking herself against the SUV. I walk up to her, and say, "Are you okay?"

"Yep," she answers. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well, we got an hour before my doctor's appointment. So, how about we go to Starbucks?" I offer.

It wasn't until we were pulling out of the parking lot when she says, "I know I can't stop you, but I don't want you talking about my medical record with [Uncle]. I'm asking please."

I don't give an answer one way or the other.

"He's a liar and he's a cheat, and he comes into my house and steals things--things that are important to me, that my mother left me when she died."

I really have a low tolerance for this bullshit. "Grandma, that's your illness talking. Why would [Uncle] drive eight hours out of his way to steal trinkets? Eight hours."

"Because he wants to take away stuff that is important to me...How many times do I have to tell you!?! I don't want him in my life," she yells.

"Okay, I am taking you back to the house...You can have this conversation with him when he comes to visit on Saturday."

"This is going to be all your fault," she snaps to me.

"Yes, and it's a burden I'm willing to bear," I respond.