the season of goodbyes

I was the person who never knew loss or death or any real tragedy. Into my adulthood, my family remained complete - with rare injuries and sickness - and no needs for any goodbyes.

Then it was my grandma, my dad's mom - who we never expected to say goodbye to. A bladder surgery, followed by complications, followed by what we all thought was Alzheimer's - but now I really think was toxicity from a serious uti/kidney infection - and then she was sick and then she was gone. For the last year or so it was hard. She wasn't the same and would ask questions that showed her mind was years in the past - she knew me but she thought I was in high school rather than college and with the loss of bladder control - the smell of their home was difficult at best. So, we didn't visit as often that year and we said goodbye to the grandma we had known before she was really gone - but then when she went, the pain she felt, the struggle - it was hard - and the unsaid truths lingered - it was hard feeling like we should have done more to get her healthy, but no one had known she was sick. We always said that in the end it would be that way - she was such a servant and the consummate hostess a proverbs 31 example to us all, and a product of the 50s housewife generation - she would never admit that she was hurting or didn't have everything under control - it just wasn't done. In the end, she was surrounded by almost all of her family, praying, laughing, loving, living. This was my first taste of death - my first goodbye - lessened by knowing that she was now in heaven and felt no more pain - but life changing all the same. She was and is missed.

My grandpa - he was never really the same after she left him - and I'm not quite sure he ever really got over it - after all he was always the sick one with open heart surgeries and the rest - he was always supposed to go first - but instead he outlived her by years - his love, his life. He lived with my parents and then on his own, and eventually was sick enough to need to be in a medically supported nursing home. In and out of the hospitals, time and again, the claimed he wouldn't make it time and again - and to be honest we were never quite sure if he wanted to come back to us. My papa - he loved me - he wasn't expressive, he didn't share or talk about life or emotions - but his love for me was palpable. He was proud of me and loved my boys and was in awe of them and their beauty. After Owen was born he told me how proud he was to have a great grandson and Noah just added to his joy. 

In November, my little family ventured to the desert to make some decisions on our house and celebrate thanksgiving with my family. While we were there, we made the trek with my whole family to visit Papa in his "home" (which he called a prison and hated) about 2 hours from where my parents live in the town where my uncle and his family live. Papa was able to meet Noah for the first time and we were able to capture a few beautiful pictures and sort of say our goodbyes - as we didn't imagine that we would all be together again before he passed as we were not expecting to be in the desert again until we move back in July. 

Sure enough, on Christmas Eve as we headed up north to visit J's family, we got a call that my Papa who had been in the hospital with mrsa and pneumonia was being moved to hospice. To say that this put a damper on Christmas would be a bit of an understatement! I spent the next several days "celebrating" with a heavy heart - and by the 26th my MIL had offered to fly the boys and myself back home to say goodbye. I arrived in the desert on the evening of the 27th and my mom and I drove down to the VA the next morning. The nurses said that the babies shouldn't come in, so my parents stayed outside with the boys who were unhappy to see me leave after so much upheaval and constant travel - but eventually calmed with their grandparents. The family had all assembled - uncles and aunts and cousins - all holding vigil each day and night ensuring that he was never alone. They left to give me a moment alone with him - to say my own goodbyes - and everyone went outside to see the boys. I told him I loved him and that I knew it hurt and that it would be okay to let go and say goodbye - that grandma and Jesus were waiting for him - and I thanked him - I thanked him for loving me, for being the man he was, for everything he had done for us all. And within minutes - his breathing calmed and slowed and he was gone - all the while holding my hand. My papa and grandma were both gone - I held his hand for a while longer - having called my dad and telling him I thought it was close - although he didn't seem to believe me. He called back after I tried calling him a few more times, unsure of whether or not he was really gone, I never let go of his hand - not wanting to abandon him in his last moments if he wasn't quite gone - I told my dad that I thought he was gone and in moments the boys (my dad and uncles) had rushed the room - my aunts and cousins with tears in their eyes - and me not quite sure how to feel - and I'm still not - over a month later and I'm still not quite sure. My chest feels tight and swells when I think of it, but I can't really cry - I know his quality of life was less than I'd want for him and I know he's in heaven - what more could I want. Yet still there is an ache - not the ache of the unsaid as I had with my grandma - as I told him all of those things in our last moments alone - the ache is for the man I didn't get to know as fully as I'd like, the stories he'll never tell, for my father - the orphan, for my boys who won't remember their great-grandfather. I miss him - I want him back, but I don't want him to hurt - so I know that goodbye was best. And best that these goodbyes happen while the boys are too young to remember the pain. Yet, I'm struggling - I'm not bouncing back like I feel I should - I'm not sure if it's struggling to deal with the experience of being alone with him when he passed - but I don't think that's it - I think that was okay and I was glad to be that safe place for him to let go. I just...I just hurt - I'm withdrawn after nearly a month away from this place that we currently call home - from the end of October through the beginning of January - the boys and I were away from home for over 5 weeks - followed by our car being rear ended and then colds and terrible weather - we haven't seen our friends in months - we haven't been to playdates or had a routine - and now, the clock is ticking for the next big change and move - and the effort to reconnect only to face more goodbyes in only four months overwhelms me. And now, today we here that J's grandmother was placed on hospice and we must travel again to say our goodbyes and support my MIL as she loses her mother. 

It seems to be the season of goodbyes - and it is not a season I relish. I'm struggling with the change and the finality and the loss. I'm struggling to determine what I should hold onto and what I need to let go. This move back home, one I so looked forward to when we arrived, has now become a source of pain. I have friends and a life here - that I will miss - I don't like goodbyes - I don't like losing - I guess no one does - my heart is heavy for these losses, natural and necessary though as they may be. Pray for us - as we travel again - as we say goodbye again - as we find our way back to normal only to prepare for more changes. Such is life, and I, for one, am grateful to be alive.  

sad...

My momma is gone. She and my dad left tonight at about seven to start their road trip back home to the desert. I held it together while they were leaving trying to make sure that Owen understood that they wouldn't be back in the morning and that we wouldn't be seeing them again for quite a while, and then not a full minute after I closed the door behind them, I had to get Owen distracted with a toy and I hid in the bathroom and cried - big time. They were here for about 15 days, but they both worked whole they were here and didn't come over until after Owen's afternoon nap most days - so I feel like I barely had time with them. And, of course, J is on call tonight and going golfing in the morning - this momma already misses her momma and isn't looking forward to doing g this alone! Here we go - time to start real life as a mom of two - with a hubby as a second year fellow - and no family less than 7 hours away! I know I can do this, but tonight, I just wanna pout a little! I want my mommy (complete with toddler stomp and pout)!

Oh and I do realize that after posting every day for a month, I haven't posted at all for the last month, but we are doing great and getting a routine down and I will be getting Noah's birth story finished up and be back to regularly scheduled posting again soon!

Blog Every Day in May: Day 10

Challenge Day 10: Most embarrassing moment(s). Spill.

I sit here typing this out, and can't help but laugh at myself even now. I have a laundry list of embarrassing moments - as I have been known to resemble my hair color and act like a bit of a "blonde" and I have never been particularly coordinated and have many stories of quite embarrassing falls - like that one rainy day in high school (when I was wearing flip flops because that's what you do in high school) - I was on my way to Bible class walking down the breezeway towards the new building when I slipped right into a puddle fell on my butt - my books flew everywhere and my pants were soaked - I managed to get myself back together and continue to class - slightly damp and more than a little embarrassed, when not more than 20 yards later as I entered the building I slipped and fell flat on the tile floor - in front of all of the same people who had seen me fall only moments before! It was a little rough sitting through that class between my wet pants and bruised bottom and ego - yet when asked what my most embarrassing moment has been - I can't claim that one. It would have to be the day that J and I got engaged and it really is a wonder that our engagement still occurred after the shame I inflicted on myself that afternoon!

As I've said before, I grew up and lived in the desert prior to this move - so we would do things like take trips to "go see snow." J and I dated twice, but the second time we got together at the end of November in 2011. On January 1, 2010 - we were already quite serious and J and I took my sister with us on a day trip about 2 hours north to go play in the snow! This was his first time really spending time with someone in my family outside of myself - and we didn't do much to advocate for our gene pool on this day!

We spent a while running around - making snow angels and snowmen, etc. Then, after a few hours of playing in the snow, we found a hill to go sledding. Now, something that you probably don't know about my family is that we are known to have rather small bladders and tend to need potty breaks every hour or so...and I'm pretty sure everyone now knows where this is going....While running up and down this hill and sledding, my little sister and I were laughing and joking and my sister began to pee her pants....I found this hilarious - and as I was cracking up laughing at her for peeing her pants - I peed my own pants (as captured by J - although from the bottom of the hill he thought we were just laughing as he snapped this pic). Keep in mind that J and I only dated for a little over a month - so my adult sister and I BOTH peed our pants in "public" (the forest is only kinda public) - in front of the guy I had been dating for about 5 weeks! I was MORTIFIED and slowly made my way down the hill, where we had to admit that we had both peed ourselves and needed to get cleaned up (thankfully we had brought extra sets of clothes!).

While incredibly embarrassing, J was clearly not dissuaded in his attraction* and love for me as he proceeded to propose that evening when we had returned to my house - and I'm so glad that he did! Although, it might have been a little harsh if he had returned an already purchased ring - but you never know - he might not have wanted to marry "miss pee-pee-pants"!
*there are some perks to dating/marrying a surgeon and one is that it takes a LOT to gross him out!

 

Two Become One on 2/1

On February 1st, my baby sister got married. G and J got engaged on Christmas and planned and executed a super quick wedding - and are now living in our desert condo - since Papa had to move into an assisted living facility after his most recent hospital stay.

While it was stressful planning a last minute trip and travel with a toddler while 5 months pregnant is not anyone's idea of a a good time (that first plane ride was physical torture - but O watched cartoons and did fantastically on both legs of the trip) - in the end it was great to be able to see family and spend time celebrating my baby sister and new BIL.

It was a simple church ceremony, performed by my dad (he did all three of our weddings) and G was beaming the entire night - it was amazing to see her so beautiful, so grown-up, and so happy. I'm so proud of the woman that she has become!