My aunt, after many years of being mean to my grandma, has decided to mend her ways (I guess?) and pitch in on caring for my grandma. Her version, which is very generous and welcome, is to occasionally buy a cart full of groceries and drive them up to her. She doesn’t discuss this with my grandma so it usually comes as a surprise, and my grandma is not very receptive to surprises at this stage of her life, nor is she quite willing to let her guard down with my aunt. Understandably.
Now that curbside grocery pickup is a thing in my area, my aunt can now shop online and make me to pick up the groceries, which I did this morning because it helps keep the peace and I can soften the surprise a bit. Grandma still had no idea what to do with so many groceries, and because her arthritis keeps her from cooking much anymore, she was a bit overwhelmed and not sure what to do with it all. I offered to take anything she thought might be too much trouble and make meals we could share (which is the normal way I do things, she calls me “gourmet meals on wheels”), and I told her if it just got to be too much to just put a sign and the food outside her apartment door and it would be gone by evening.
We’re suppose to be glad when people do nice things, right? Except this “nice thing” is a bit too little too late, has no gentleness (but hey, neither does my aunt), and is massively inconvenient to me. Grandma was a little upset I had to be put to trouble (I assured her it was not, and quite easy), but she was glad it was me and not my aunt delivering the groceries, since my aunt can’t make a visit without bringing up something contentious that my grandma would prefer not to discuss.
It’s not inexplicable that I occasionally fantasize about running away to Canada.