Yesterday I was woken up from fast and loud footsteps made by my parents outside. This morning I was woken up from My Fucking Father yelling loudly at Grandmother, who pleaded with him not to put her in a home. He has rarely been so angry. From what I can understand, he has wanted her for a long time, and not that the deal has just about been struck, he is not going to allow her to stay at home, even though she is, for the most part, fine. He walked away from her screaming, "Get out! Now!!!"

I didn't know what to do. The outright fury he displayed kept me in my bedroom, even though I couldn't go back to sleep. But after the 'Rents left, Grandmother woke me up and asked me to call her real son in Hong Kong. Never mind that it was nighttime over there; I wanted to help her out, even if she couldn't ask for the money she wanted from him. Grandmother's desperate; she doesn't know what's going on except that things are changing, and in ways she doesn't like. This is not her being crazy; I totally understand what is going on, and I empathize with her. I just didn't know how to help. I was being selfish; I asked for her permission to go back to sleep. Holding the phone and out of options, she let me retire to my bedroom.

I was woken up a couple hours later by more commotion, this time from Grandmother and her friends. She and one of the friends came into my room (I left it unlocked in case she needed something). Grandmother has known this couple for a long time; I remember them mostly for the woman of the couple, who had these humongous set of tits that I secretly fantasized over when I was young. She is much older now and it looks like her breasts are smaller. It's either due to reduction surgery or old age. But I digress. ...

He (Grandmother's friend) wanted to try and help, and so he asked me for any information about the case workers who know about Grandmother. I gave him the number of the people I work for, and he said he'd try his best. I felt good that her friends stepped up to help her, at least to this extent. It's very difficult to tell her what's going on, what I can do and how I feel about the whole situation, partly because of her frailty, partly because of the language barrier. So to see that they're stepping in made me feel a little bit better. And I felt a little more better to see that her friends kind of give a damn about what's happening.

Unfortunately this couple would not do what would be my ideal situation for her: Take her in. If she no longer can stay here, the next best thing would be to move in with friends. But they say they can't take care of her. And I feel bad all of a sudden because I can't take care of her either.

Once we were done with her conversation, the couple started to leave ... and Grandmother began going with them. When I went to the hallway, her male friend pointed out a suitcase that he lifted up. Grandmother packed it that morning -- "With all of her medications!" he said. Her plan was to stay with her best friend, who is in senior housing. After being yelled at that morning and told her stay her is numbered, I wouldn't blame her. Of course, she has no idea what to do. But if I were her, not knowing what to do in the future wouldn't stop me because the future designed for me is something I wouldn't like.

So off she went to her best friend's pad. I wanted to think she would be able to stay there, at least for a while. If not her, then the couple she drove off with. Grandmother has stayed out overnight a few times over the years, and I assume she had stayed with them. What's another two, three days as they figure something out?

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I came back home around 1 in the morning, like I told the 'Rents I would. I looked up at the second floor of the house. Didn't see a light. Good. Grandmother needs to get away from here.

Just to make sure, once I came in I went up the stairs. Her bedroom door was closed. Did she close it before she left this afternoon?

I opened it, just in case. There, I saw a nightlight on and a lump on the bedroom. Turns out she did return.

I can just imagine seeing her trundle back home this evening, suitcase in hand. She would be extremely, extremely depressed to come back in defeat. And of course, my parents would be overjoyed at seeing her so miserable. Disgusting. And sad.