I secretly read my grandmother's 30-year diary.

My grandmother has a diary that she writes in, not every day, but
only when something memorable happens.


I found out about its existence two years ago.
It was about a year after I started living with her.

While cleaning my grandmother's room, I found a transparent storage case in the back of the closet.

Inside, there were diary books of the same size neatly lined up,
and when I counted them, there were probably about 30.

One book for about one year.
It was the first time I had ever seen so many diaries written by one person, and I gasped.

As I flipped through the pages, they were filled with dense writing, evidence that for 30 years, my grandmother had been writing down her "feelings she couldn't tell anyone."


"I shouldn't read this"

I knew full well that it was private.
Even so, I couldn't help but be curious.


My grandmother has always been a very gentle person,
and even at family gatherings, she rarely spoke up, just quietly nodding while listening to others,
that kind of person.

I have almost never seen her angry.

That is precisely why,
what my grandmother was really thinking,
I had never understood.

I felt that my grandmother's true feelings were in these 30 diaries.

Carrying a sense of guilt, I gently opened one.
Every time I turned a page, there was a side of my grandmother I had never known.


When my grandfather was still alive.

My grandfather's dementia progressed, and even in her old age, my grandmother continued to care for him alone.

So-called "elderly caring for the elderly".

On the pages from that time, these words were left behind:

"(Just the two of us, Grandpa and me. I feel like I'm going to lose my mind too.)"
"I can't rely on anyone. How long will this endless life continue?"The moment I saw that diary, which looked like it had been scribbled in anger,

my chest tightened.

My grandmother is someone who is always smiling.
I have never once heard her complain.
So I assumed she was surely doing fine.

But in reality, it was different.

My grandmother had been holding onto a pain she couldn't tell anyone about all by herself.

On days she wanted to cry, on nights she couldn't sleep from anxiety, she showed it to no one.
I think this diary was the only place she could vent those feelings.


And then, the page for the day my grandfather passed away.
It was written briefly like this:

"(Grandpa died. Next is my turn.)"

Even though she had suffered so much from caregiving.
Not "I'm finally relieved," but "Next is my turn."
That one sentence never left my heart.


"Caregiving was hard"

Even so, my grandfather was the only person who had walked through life with my grandmother.


In the diaries that followed, my grandfather was written about every time his monthly memorial day came around.

"(Already 7 months.)"
"(A year has passed.)"
"(Only time passes as if it's natural.)"

Only the time of the person who passed away stops, and only the time of those living flows on indifferently.
Such loneliness was written all over the diary.


And my grandmother herself
seemed to be starting to feel "death" closer to her little by little.

Even after my grandfather passed away,

my grandmother's younger brother.

My grandmother's cousin.

My grandfather's siblings.

People who had lived together for many years,
one by one, they left this world.

Each time, my grandmother
"Tomorrow is my turn."
She seemed to be strengthening that thought.


I started living with my grandmother three years ago,
and now, my mother and I support my grandmother's life.

Making meals, going shopping, accompanying her to the hospital, helping with things she can't do.
I thought that "living together" was the happiest thing for my grandmother.

But in one day's diary, something like this was written:

"My daughter and grandchild do things for me, and they go out to work during the day.
I'm the only one doing nothing, spending every day just blankly.
Is it okay to stay like this?"

When I read that sentence,
I realized for the first time that I didn't understand my grandmother's feelings at all.

I thought I was supporting my grandmother.
But my grandmother was suffering from having become the "side being supported".

Getting older doesn't just mean having more things you can't do.
"I want to be useful to someone."
It might be that you even lose that feeling.

Of course, it's difficult for my grandmother to live alone now.
I definitely think that living together leads to peace of mind for my grandmother.

Even so, Iwonder if I have been taking away my grandmother's "reason for living" little by little.
I started thinking about things like that.


My grandmother has a reason to live now.

To see her grandchild, who is still a student, become a working adult.

And to see the growth of the little great-grandchild that my cousin gave birth to.

This was also written in my grandmother's diary.

That existence seems to be making my grandmother think, "I'll try living a little longer."


My grandmother is currently 87 years old.

She has always been a person who lived putting herself last.
She supported my grandfather, raised her children, and lived thinking of her family first.

That is why, reading 30 years of diaries, the weight of that life comes across.


I still don't think it was a good thing that I read my grandmother's diary without permission.
But if I hadn't read it then, I might never have known for the rest of my life that my grandmother had lived while carrying such deep loneliness and sadness.

I don't know how much time my grandmother has left.

That is precisely why I want my grandmother to spend as many days as possible thinking, "I'm glad I lived today too."
What I can do might be trivial, but

I want to accumulate small joys, like laughing together, eating delicious food, and going for walks.
In my grandmother's diary, I hope that not just sad words, but


days written as "Today was fun" will increase little by little.
I wish for that from the bottom of my heart.

※ Thank you for always reading my articles.
I am aiming for a monthly revenue of 3,000 yen to earn money for lunch with my grandmother.
This is a note I started because I wanted to write down things about my grandmother somewhere.
I hope to build a relationship of trust with all of you little by little, so I would be very grateful if you could continue to support me! 🫧