Wednesday
Apr152009
The Week Forever Branded Into My Usually Crappy Memory
04.15.2009
Thank you to all who have expressed your condolences in comments and calls both public and private. I write this blog as an outlet for the jibberish in my head and as a tool to share photos of the kids. It is a joy to come to know you, even if only through this medium. It's not that I forget I have readers, it's just that I'm stood still by the compassion that can be shown from folks whom I only know through the internet. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
It's a tough week emotionally. The first reason, obviously, is the death of my grandfather on Sunday. Jennifer and I had organized everything the night before because Sunday was going to be a big day with church plus leaving the kids in the church nursery, plus going out to her parents', plus managing naps away from home, plus trying to get them to eat surrounded by too many strangers at Easter lunch, plus getting home in time for bedtime routine. So when the kids went down for their morning nap, I went ahead and packed up the car, including my cell phone. Which is why I didn't answer any of the 5 calls that came in within a span of two hours- all from my mother. It wasn't until 10:30 that I began listening to the first voice mail when the phone rang again and it was my mom telling me that my grandfather had passed away at 9:26 a.m. As I'm listening, my left brain was throwing punches at my right brain saying "don't cry. stay strong. you're not wearing smudgeproof eyeliner." And this was one moment when I was grateful for Jennifer's Starbucks addiction because right there in the glove box was a napkin for me to dab with.
Jen offered to go home, but I didn't really see the reason, so we kept driving. We had gone early to give ourselves time with the kids IN the nursery before going to service. They haven't been too keen on staying with anyone besides our nanny, Matou, or Mommy. And I can tell you Jennifer and I often wonder where we rank in their preference. All that planning, however, didn't help. They were on to us, and we had to leave them crying. It gave me a cover to do the same.
Easter service was nice. There was a huge thunderstorm that passed through, causing the lights to flicker and the copper roof to crackle and pop. The music and sermon were beautiful, but I cried intermittently, uncontrollably, and unpredictably with my now falling-apart Starbucks napkin constantly at my face. People around us probably thought "awww, she's so moved by Easter, look how much she loves Jesus," but in reality it was hard to focus on the joy when every other word in Easter service is DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, TOMB, DYING, DEATH, DYING.
My grandfather was something else, I tell you. Always laughing or making a joke. He would say "call me on my cell phone because I don't know where I'll be." I know people half his age that complain about cell phones and how they don't know how to use them. He was on the golf course as often as possible (though I think the one in Small Town, Texas doubles as a cow pasture half a year and desert the other). There are so many stories, I wouldn't even know where to begin. And I shouldn't right now, since I still don't have the smudge-proof stuff. He was diagnosed only a couple months ago, but succumbed quickly. The cancer itself was treatable, but when combined with diabetes, old age, and chemotherapy, it became too much for his body. Honestly, I think he would have lived longer without treatment. My grandfather has always been about quality AND quantity. He loved his full head of hair, loved to paint and draw, loved golf. And once treatment began, he lost the ability to do those things. Cancer is cruel like that. It was then that I knew it wouldn't be long.
Though I would love for Jennifer and the kids to be with me, it would be a logistical nightmare: driving would take an entire day (it's a 6 hour drive from here without kids/diaper changes/feedings). If we flew, we'd be broke. The rosary will occur during bedtime. The funeral will occur during a nap. And if there is one thing I am inflexible about, it's their sleep because it will make or break the rest of the day and usually half of the next. Jennifer could fly out with me and we'd still be broke, and be broker because we'd have to pay for overnight care for the twins. So, yeah, the smartest thing is for me to go alone. And by the time this post gets published, I'll be in the air.
I will be flying out on Wednesday after a half-day of work, arriving in one city, and hitching a ride to Small Town, Texas in time for the wake and the rosary. The mass and burial will be on Thursday, April 16. After the reception, I'll hitch a ride back to San Antonio and catch a flight back home, arriving at 8:30 p.m on the 16th. It's too short a trip when I consider how I feel I'm failing my mom by not being there for her longer. The appearance that I'm just rushing in for the services, check in with the extended family, hugs, kisses, tears, and head back home. But it's the best I can do what with the responsibility of my children and family and that increasingly unstable job situation. I hate it when my best isn't good enough.
And while I'm thinking about it, write a will. It is the single most important document you'll ever have. And it is the most selfless gift you can give to those you'll leave behind. In all his greatness, my grandfather was exceptionally stubborn and he refused to write one. I am lovingly pissed off about that. Assets freeze, everything has to go through probate, loved ones have to simultaneously mourn while scrambling for funds for burial. Sadness and pain often manifests itself in the form of survivors bickering over tangible objects. It's just plain unnecessary. When you don't write a will, the state and the courts effectively decide what goes where. The family has almost no say. So bow up, people.
April 16 is also MATEO AND HARPER'S FIRST BIRTHDAY.
And I won't see them AT ALL that day due to travel.
That's the other emotionally difficult thing this week. It'll be harder on me than it is on them. And I know I'm being all sentimental about it and that they won't remember it and all that. But I will, and it leaves me a little bit nauseated. You wouldn't think you could have the wind knocked out of you when your chest is already hollow feeling, but it can.
Around March some time, I began thinking about the kids' birthday and the post I would write. And as I got to thinking about it, I'd get to crying. Why, one might ask? I'll be able to explain it better sometime in the next. . .Never.
In memory of my grandfather, I've set the post to publish at approximately the same time as my grandfather's burial, which is approximately the same time as their birth a year prior - their birthday forever shared with the great-grandfather they never got to meet.
Oh, but the stories we'll tell.
It's a tough week emotionally. The first reason, obviously, is the death of my grandfather on Sunday. Jennifer and I had organized everything the night before because Sunday was going to be a big day with church plus leaving the kids in the church nursery, plus going out to her parents', plus managing naps away from home, plus trying to get them to eat surrounded by too many strangers at Easter lunch, plus getting home in time for bedtime routine. So when the kids went down for their morning nap, I went ahead and packed up the car, including my cell phone. Which is why I didn't answer any of the 5 calls that came in within a span of two hours- all from my mother. It wasn't until 10:30 that I began listening to the first voice mail when the phone rang again and it was my mom telling me that my grandfather had passed away at 9:26 a.m. As I'm listening, my left brain was throwing punches at my right brain saying "don't cry. stay strong. you're not wearing smudgeproof eyeliner." And this was one moment when I was grateful for Jennifer's Starbucks addiction because right there in the glove box was a napkin for me to dab with.
Jen offered to go home, but I didn't really see the reason, so we kept driving. We had gone early to give ourselves time with the kids IN the nursery before going to service. They haven't been too keen on staying with anyone besides our nanny, Matou, or Mommy. And I can tell you Jennifer and I often wonder where we rank in their preference. All that planning, however, didn't help. They were on to us, and we had to leave them crying. It gave me a cover to do the same.
Easter service was nice. There was a huge thunderstorm that passed through, causing the lights to flicker and the copper roof to crackle and pop. The music and sermon were beautiful, but I cried intermittently, uncontrollably, and unpredictably with my now falling-apart Starbucks napkin constantly at my face. People around us probably thought "awww, she's so moved by Easter, look how much she loves Jesus," but in reality it was hard to focus on the joy when every other word in Easter service is DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, TOMB, DYING, DEATH, DYING.
My grandfather was something else, I tell you. Always laughing or making a joke. He would say "call me on my cell phone because I don't know where I'll be." I know people half his age that complain about cell phones and how they don't know how to use them. He was on the golf course as often as possible (though I think the one in Small Town, Texas doubles as a cow pasture half a year and desert the other). There are so many stories, I wouldn't even know where to begin. And I shouldn't right now, since I still don't have the smudge-proof stuff. He was diagnosed only a couple months ago, but succumbed quickly. The cancer itself was treatable, but when combined with diabetes, old age, and chemotherapy, it became too much for his body. Honestly, I think he would have lived longer without treatment. My grandfather has always been about quality AND quantity. He loved his full head of hair, loved to paint and draw, loved golf. And once treatment began, he lost the ability to do those things. Cancer is cruel like that. It was then that I knew it wouldn't be long.
Though I would love for Jennifer and the kids to be with me, it would be a logistical nightmare: driving would take an entire day (it's a 6 hour drive from here without kids/diaper changes/feedings). If we flew, we'd be broke. The rosary will occur during bedtime. The funeral will occur during a nap. And if there is one thing I am inflexible about, it's their sleep because it will make or break the rest of the day and usually half of the next. Jennifer could fly out with me and we'd still be broke, and be broker because we'd have to pay for overnight care for the twins. So, yeah, the smartest thing is for me to go alone. And by the time this post gets published, I'll be in the air.
I will be flying out on Wednesday after a half-day of work, arriving in one city, and hitching a ride to Small Town, Texas in time for the wake and the rosary. The mass and burial will be on Thursday, April 16. After the reception, I'll hitch a ride back to San Antonio and catch a flight back home, arriving at 8:30 p.m on the 16th. It's too short a trip when I consider how I feel I'm failing my mom by not being there for her longer. The appearance that I'm just rushing in for the services, check in with the extended family, hugs, kisses, tears, and head back home. But it's the best I can do what with the responsibility of my children and family and that increasingly unstable job situation. I hate it when my best isn't good enough.
And while I'm thinking about it, write a will. It is the single most important document you'll ever have. And it is the most selfless gift you can give to those you'll leave behind. In all his greatness, my grandfather was exceptionally stubborn and he refused to write one. I am lovingly pissed off about that. Assets freeze, everything has to go through probate, loved ones have to simultaneously mourn while scrambling for funds for burial. Sadness and pain often manifests itself in the form of survivors bickering over tangible objects. It's just plain unnecessary. When you don't write a will, the state and the courts effectively decide what goes where. The family has almost no say. So bow up, people.
April 16 is also MATEO AND HARPER'S FIRST BIRTHDAY.
And I won't see them AT ALL that day due to travel.
That's the other emotionally difficult thing this week. It'll be harder on me than it is on them. And I know I'm being all sentimental about it and that they won't remember it and all that. But I will, and it leaves me a little bit nauseated. You wouldn't think you could have the wind knocked out of you when your chest is already hollow feeling, but it can.
Around March some time, I began thinking about the kids' birthday and the post I would write. And as I got to thinking about it, I'd get to crying. Why, one might ask? I'll be able to explain it better sometime in the next. . .Never.
In memory of my grandfather, I've set the post to publish at approximately the same time as my grandfather's burial, which is approximately the same time as their birth a year prior - their birthday forever shared with the great-grandfather they never got to meet.
Oh, but the stories we'll tell.
Reader Comments (10)
sending hugs via the internets that connects us but also does not always let us give the real hugs we wish to. and though you will not be 'with' them at the one day, they are always with you, you know?
Again, I am so very sorry for your loss. I know his spirit will live on in you. Hugs to you and your family during this time.
I am so sorry Rach. I am a phone call away if you want to call and vent. Thinking of you during this time.
My condolences for EVERYTHING you're going through! What a week! Just know that Grandpa is smiling down and so proud to share that day with his 2 beautiful great-grandchildren!!!! :)
Happy Birthday, Harper & Matteo!!!!! Wow...has it been a YEAR already??
Heart-breaking, Rach. I hope all goes well tomorrow, and just know you would not want your kiddos to feel that their best is not good enough so give that gift to your Mom tomorrow. Also, know you are teaching your kids that family is so important even if it means missing a bday- a very important bday. Cycle of life. I always tell my boys that we are a team and sometimes that means one sacrifices for another, and this is one of those times. One day they will praise you for it because they will learn what a great sacrifice it was to be away from them on this important day when they have kiddos of their own. keep in mind though that you are there for the most important days- all of the rest of them. Hugs to all of you, and give one to your Mom, too. It is important to say good-bye, so no regrets- you are in the right place eve if you feel all wrong.
I'm so sorry. About all of it. Thinking of you all. Also happy birthday to the twins.
My thoughts are with you... ((hugs)))
I am so sorry for you and your family's loss. So sorry you have to separated from your kiddos! I'm sure that is tough. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers! Hugs and kisses from Kentucky:)
Your post made me cry. So sorry for your loss, your grandfather..and not being there on your kids 1st birthday. I don't always comment much, but I'm an avid reader of your blog, and I enjoy it....A LOT.
XOXOX,
Jody
Thinking of you and your family (((HUGS)))