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| Luminarias, much loved by my grandmother, on the grave of her and my grandfather |
We are back from Boise and settling into our new normal. It's not so bad. But it's only been a few days. Ask me in a few weeks how I'm doing. Or a few months.
(I have so many thoughts and feelings and memories swirling around. I would love to write a coherent, meaningful post. But I think the best I can do is babble. We'll see how many words I can pour onto this page before Sara wakes up.)
My grandma, to whom I am very close, died just before the new year.
By all accounts Fern should have passed several days earlier, but she held on until Dave and Ale arrived with Baby Diego. Having at last met Diego, the newest of her great-grandchildren, she soon passed away peacefully in her sleep, in the same room where her beloved Harold had died fourteen years earlier.
Regarding her funeral, I knew two things. 1) With Greg leaving that same weekend, I was totally justified in not attending. In fact, going seemed out of the question. 2) I knew I needed to go.
So our last hours together as a family were spent with Mom frantically trying to pack for her and the kids in preparation for a last-minute, early-morning flight to Boise.
My heart was heavy on Thursday evening, our last together with Greg. My whole being was heavy. We had maintained a happy, upbeat mood all day with a morning trip to a museum and dinner at a favorite restaurant. We even managed to put David and Mary to bed without drama or tears. But my walls came crumbling down when Greg wrapped Sara up and rocked her to sleep, for the last time. The last time. She'll be more toddler than baby when he comes back. Oh, that baby loves her daddy. Her favorite place in the whole world is in his arms. Seeing that little baby head snuggled in his arm for the last time gave me physical pain. Such sadness.
Besides the sadness, I felt scared. How could I do it? How could I say good-bye to Greg at 3:30 the next morning and then pick myself up and get me and my children safely across the country and back? And then return to an empty home and keep everyone safe, happy, and cared for all by myself? My mind was flooded with all of the things that could go wrong. I was drowning in fear.
I sat down in a chair. I cried a little. Then I said aloud, "Faith, not fear. Faith, not fear." I was worried about the trip to Idaho, but I felt very strongly that we should go. I had to trust in God and trust in myself that I could handle it. Likewise, Greg and I have felt peace about his deployment. It's okay that he's going. So I needed to have faith that I would be strong enough and that I would be taken care of. I took a deep breath or two. Or three or four. And picked myself up.
The trip to Idaho was challenging. Sara is at a hard age for travel--too old to snooze the time away but not old enough to enjoy a screen. Once I sat next to an old lady who insisted on giving me advice on how to calm my baby. It was the holidays and we bought our tickets last minute, so I didn't always get to sit right with my kids on the planes. Sara got very sick and wasn't sleeping at night. So I wasn't sleeping at night. I was lucky to sleep an hour at a time. David and Mary were totally jet-lagged, needing to eat and sleep at different times from everyone else. I was asked to speak at the funeral, but I didn't have any time to prepare. I think I had to go to the Walmart in Nampa twelve times. I missed Greg. Sara felt so crummy that she wouldn't let anyone near her. She was constantly attached to my hip. And I was insanely, deliriously sleep-deprived.
Sunday evening Janell gave me one of her big, loving hugs and I crumbled. "I'm going to break. I'm going to break," I said with my head buried in her shoulder.
But here's the thing. I didn't break.
The trip was wonderful. Somehow it was okay that I had nothing coherent to say at the funeral and that Sara wore her leopard print pajamas instead of the special dress I packed and that I never did take a picture of all six grandchildren and that I could barely think straight. The trip was a tremendous blessing.
Because I got to hug my aunt Janell. And thank her for the sacrifices she made to enable my grandma to stay in the home she loved.
Because my children got to hug Janell. (Mary rightly described her as "very hugful.")
Because my whole family (except for Greg) was together. All of us siblings haven't been together since ... Mary's baby blessing, I believe!
Because I had the opportunity to speak much to David and Mary of God's plan and the Resurrection.
Because I got to stand up in front of the enormous crowd of people who came to honor my grandmother and see in their eyes the love and respect they had for Fern.
Because I got to hear my brothers pray.
Because I heard my dad tell the story of his mother directing (and producing) a full scale musical production in little Star Valley, Wyoming.
Because I got to eat enchiladas at the luncheon. (No ham and funeral potatoes at Fern's funeral!)
Because I drove up to the cemetery on the hill and saw the sun shining brightly in the big blue Idaho sky.
Because David was a pallbearer. He felt special and honored and performed his duties with great seriousness.
Because I got to stand in the cold at my grandparents' headstone with loved ones and luminaries. We sang hymns and primary songs. David and Mary sang too.
Because I got to think about how awesome my grandma is.
Because my dream came true and I met Baby Diego. I squished his legs and patted his bum and smelled his head. It was heavenly. Heavenly!
Because David and Mary and Caleb and Annika played together. They liked swimming at the hotel and sorting Aunt Janell's quarters. But the basement was the jackpot. It was filled with secret hiding places and treasures (WWII gear! miles of ribbon! a boomerang! typewriter! knives! etc!). (Why did we go to Disneyland? We should have just gone to grandma's basement.)
Because Sara and I stayed up late one night with Daniel talking about the girl he's dating. (Sara, Daniel, and I have a habit of staying up late together talking about the girl he is dating.)
Because David found my grandfather's WWII uniform and put it on.
Because I spent an afternoon discussing the syllabus for the upper level writing class Andy is teaching this coming semester.
Because Sara trusted my mom. No one else. But she did trust my mom.
Because my mom helped me with my East Coast Time Zone children in the early morning hours.
Because my dad gave Sara a blessing.
Because I slept for three consecutive hours on Sunday night. And took a nap on Monday.
Because my mom and Janell took all the kids to a movie and there was spilled popcorn and potty breaks and really bad customer service.
Because Andy picked up David and "burped" him on his shoulder just the way he did when David was a baby.
Because we got to eat at Chapala's.
Because Greg took care of us even though he was far away. He called Delta for me repeatedly until he was able to greatly improve our seating situation for the flights home.
Because we got to see Aunt Marie at our layover in Salt Lake City.
Because I got to eat Cafe Rio. Twice.
Because David and Mary didn't miss any school. We returned Tuesday night, but school had been cancelled Monday and Tuesday. What a blessing that we were gone. Otherwise, after Greg left, we would have had five days stuck at home with nothing to do. A recipe for an emotional disaster for me. Seriously, how fortunate we were busy and exhausted and distracted in Idaho!
Because the lady who sat next to David on the flight home asked if I homeschooled my kids because they are so well-behaved. (I should take that as a compliment, right?)
Because Tio brought Calvin the Cow, and Mary was so happy about that. David and Mary love Dave and Ale. And now they adore Diego too.
Because I rented a car and it was really cheap and really nice and the kids were all excited about it just like I would have been when I was a kid. And even though I rented a car, my family still helped pick me up and drop me off at the airport.
Because my family helped me so much on this trip. I felt very grateful for my family.
Because it was a joyous occasion. Joyous because my grandma is reunited with her sweetheart. There was no sadness. My grandma suffered from dementia, and her mind had been deteriorating for some time. I think we had all said our good-byes, gradually, over the past several years. In many ways, she hadn't been with us for quite some time. Her passing wasn't sad. In fact, it was the exact opposite. We knew she was where she wanted to be, where she has longed to be for the past fourteen years: at her husband's side. It was joyous to reflect on my grandmother's life and the love she and my grandfather shared.
It was also a joyous occasion because it brought my family together. Had Fern died any other day, I'm not sure, as good as everyone's intentions would have been, that every member of my family including grandkids could have made it to Idaho for the funeral. Her timing was impeccable. Thank you, Grandma, for bringing us together. What a blessing.
Besides the most important aspects of the trip to Idaho--honoring my grandmother and being with my family--the trip also served as a lesson for me. It helped to bolster my faith. I was scared to go without Greg because I knew it would be hard. And it was hard. But it was okay. In fact, it was really great. I was strong enough, and when I wasn't strong enough, loved ones helped me, and when even that wasn't enough, I know that God was helping me. God showed me that of course He will take care of me.
So when I look ahead at the next seven months, I don't have to be scared. It will be hard. Really hard. But it will be okay. In fact, it will be a special time.
Faith; not fear.
Thank you, Grandma.
