I was thinking of calling this one, Card (2) : pissing on the matches that light the fireworks of poignancy. Obviously I decided against such preposterousness.
With a little trepidation, I called in on my grandmother mid-Saturday morning (I was spending the weekend at my mother's, they live very close to each other). She looked gaunt, tired and not a little lost. Once she'd remembered which grandson I was (and other such facts), I produced the aforementioned birthday card, and asked if she would write a message in it for my mother. She did well at first though she got a little mixed up and wrote from your daughter. That was easily amended, and I promised I would pass the card on to my mother: I kept it in my bag ready to pass on this morning along with my own card and presents.
She had seemed less than aware that it was my mother's birthday weekend, I had to remind her of the day and date a couple of times.
Later that afternoon, my mother popped up to see her for a short while. When she came back down, the following conversation ensued:
mum: she's given me my birthday card.
me: no, I've still got it with me.
me: it's in my bag, upstairs!
mum (laughing): where the hell has she got this card from then?
me: haven't the faintest...
If it should come to pass that she's still here when my mother has her next birthday, I'll keep this card in reserve. When I went to see her later she was much more lucid and bright than she had been in the morning, it was nice to spend the time chatting - or at times just being there - with her. I had to smile though when she asked, "am I right in thinking it's your mother's birthday sometime soon?"