The Next Generation

I've been thinking about my Grandma a lot this past Christmas season. I made a conscious choice to stay away from my family for Christmas because I could not handle being in Malad for Christmas, and not have my Grandma there. I've done a whole bunch of pity-partying and crying over it, but today I realized something powerful that's really changed my outlook on things.

The next generation of amazing, loving, understanding, insightful, perfect Grandparents is aleady in the making. I know for a fact that my nephews absolutely adore their "Gamma", could not live without their "Papa", and Jenna Lee cries for basically everyone, yet stares in silent awe at my dad. I look at my Aunties who are grandmas already, and those that are preparing to be grandmas, and it really stuns me how blessed my little cousins are to have the grandparents they do. It makes me glad to know that they will always have a shoulder to cry on, always have a cheerleader, and always have a Grandma's presence, even if I can't have MY Grandma.

The kids are not the next Generation I'm talking about, though. We've got a new generation of Grandmas and Grandpas coming up right now. Something about that knowledge makes me feel really hopeful and excited. I feel like the new "Grandmas" in my life have completely lived up to the example MY Grandma set, and I can't wait to see more of it.

Pearl Harbor Day

Wow. I feel incredibly emotional about Pearl Harbor Day today. I am not sure why, but I just do.

I feel like in our society, it's become an antiquated, forgotten holiday--Something our parents/grandparents celebrate and remember, but way too far in the past for us. Looking at the calendar I have hanging up, it's not even listed (but thank goodness I know when the Emperor's Birthday is in Japan [the 23rd of Dec; observed on the 24th this year ]. I am not quite sure how I would survive without that bit of information)

I'm saddened that we as a country and society do not remember. We don't have to necessarily remember each death (2390 of them) or all of those wounded (1178), but I think we can at least stick a tiny line on our calendars. Maybe we could remember the 37 sets of brothers and a set of father/son that were stationed on the USS Arizona. Maybe you want to remember the 64 members of the Japanese Navy that were killed. Maybe you like to remember the passionate kiss that happened in the movie Pearl Harbor. Any kind of remembrance works.

I tend to favor the USS Arizona memorial as a remembrance. As Alfred Preis, its architect said, "Wherein the structure sags in the center but stands strong and vigorous at the ends, expresses initial defeat and ultimate victory....The overall effect is one of serenity. Overtones of sadness have been omitted to permit the individual to contemplate his own personal responses...his innermost feelings."

The quote about its architecture is so true to me. It's not an overly depressing or sad-looking building. It's definitely not imposing or dramatic. It is a serene, simple, and understated memorial, but it is a very powerful one. I love this picture of the Memorial, with the shadow of the ship visible. My "emotional response" is so strong I sometimes want to cry over this picture. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's because the first memory I have of this place is one I share with my Grandparents, who instilled within my mother, and then me an incredibly strong sense of pride in my country and patriotism. More likely, though, it's because of all the young (and old) men that lie entombed at the bottom of this memorial, lives utterly wasted if we forget them.

"Walking cast"

edit 1/21/11:  i get a ton of google searches looking for information about walking casts. here is my short list of answers:

• my walking cast was all the way to my knee. 
• i wore the walking cast all day  and all night. i did not want to accidentally kick my foot or hit it on something. 
• walking up stairs was hard, but i did it fine. it just took some muscle toning to be able to do well.
• yes, i used crutches with the walking cast for about a week. it took that long to be able to put any weight on my foot. 
• i had muscle soreness because it forced my foot/leg to be constantly flexed. my calves felt like they were on fire, but so did my shins, hamstrings and quads. i discovered butt muscles i did not know i had.
• i found that the tighter the cast, the better. the worst feeling was having the cast be loose, because then it acted as a weight, pulling on my injured foot like a dumbell.
• i was only able to drive with my walking cast because it was on the left foot. i could not drive a manual transmission, but did fine with my right foot and an automatic transmission.
• wearing a shoe on the non-injured foot with a similar heel height (about two inches) helped me walk properly.
• i kept the walking cast (i didn't have smelling issues) just in case. it was an expensive investment with no insurance, and my dad was able to use it a few years later.
• here is a bad quality picture of the walking cast i used:

Well, a few months ago (ok, so in July :) I broke my foot at Girls camp. I stepped off a bridge, expecting to step onto a rock, but instead stepped into nothing for about 6 inches. I twisted my ankle, scraped up my leg badly, and apparently also got a compression fracture in my heel. Being the incredibly proud person I am (and because I had been getting after the girls all week to not wear slippers or shorts around camp, and I had been doing both) I got up and walked it off. Not a good idea in the long run.

Fast forward to Monday. I woke up with a really weird cramp in my foot that, throughout the day spread all over the bottom/back of my foot. Eventually, it spread into my leg, where I would get shooting pains from the tips of my toes to my hip. It was pretty much the worst pain I can imagine (and if childbirth is anything like it, I'm getting the epidural the minute I walk into the hospital)

I went into the emergency room at about midnight monday night, and sat there until 5:00 am Tuesday, for them to tell me basically there was nothing they could do, I needed to see a specialist. So, I went to work with crutches at 7:00 am that morning (thank goodness my mom works at my same work or I would have never gotten through the morning) until they could find someone to come in for me.

Well, I went in on Wed to see a podiatrist, and he told me basically that I had a compression fracture, probably from July when I fell at girls camp, and because I've been walking on my toes for the past couple months (because my foot was broken), I now had a spasm-ing muscle in my leg, which explained the pains shooting up my entire leg. He gave me a "walking cast" to wear 24/7 for the next three weeks, and a really cool shot that numbned my spastic muscle. Then he sent me on my merry way, explaining that I could go to work, walk around, do basically everything, so long as I had my magical walking cast on.

Little did he mention that because I have this wonderful walking cast (which goes from a full two inches past my toes up to my knee and weighs about three pounds itself) my hamstrings would basically be constantly flexed, and until I learn to deal with the new muscle soreness, I will probably still be hobbling around on crutches. He also failed to mention that it would be virtually impossible to find a comfortable position for my leg to rest where all my muscles are not flexing simply to hold it there. He did not mention that my foot would either feel like it's just sliding around inside a really big rain boot or being crushed in some cruel torture attempt--there is no happy-median. Either my muscles are too sore and weak (I'm using leg muscles I never knew I had) to lift my leg up onto the bed, or they are cramping too badly for me to stretch out my leg. I just can't get it right. So, today I am going to work in my new and lovely "walking cast" but I'm taking the crutches, and we'll see just how much walking I really get in. :)

On a happier note, here's (or I guess Up there ^) my new favorite picture of Jenna Lee. I have an admission to make about the poor girl. When she was first born, I thought she was pretty boring. (which is one of the good/bad things I got out of being a nanny. I am definitely NOT baby hungry anymore) But, now she's starting to smile more, be awake more, and just be all-around cuter. Anywho, here's my new favorite pic of her!

Olly olly oxen free!

Well, I guess that phrase does not work with this game of tag.

(side note that might count as the seventh thing you didn't know about me: I have lived almost 22 years of my life honestly thinking that "olly olly oxen free" is how it's spelled. I had to have Pene tell me last night that it's actually "All ye, all ye oxen free"... That's kind of embarassing to admit. Now I know how Susan went so long saying Alblum ;)

I've been tagged by Pene

RULES OF BLOG TAG

1.The player lists 6 facts/habits about themselves - try to find 6 you haven't already posted about!

2. At the end of the post, the player tags 6 people and posts their names, and then goes to their blog and leaves them a comment, letting them know they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog for the rules

Six things you never knew you didn't know about me...

1. As much as I try to not think about it/pretend the girls I work with are not right, I just can't help but thinking that the treatment center I work at is either a scary movie just waiting to happen, or haunted... especially late at night after they've all gone to sleep... (before it was a treatment center, the building was a hospital of some kind...The only thing I've ever heard about the hospital is that a girl I work with's mom was once a patient there for her psychosis...)
2. I tell people that I am allergic to raisins because they always take it better than if I tell the truth.. "No, Thank you. I would not like one of those cookies; I would honestly rather starve than eat raisins." The only problem is that I never know what to say when they say things like "that's so odd that you can have grapes, but not raisins!" Yeah. Tell me about it =)
3. I am incredibly OCD. The highlighters and white board markers in my desk are all arranged perfectly in order of the color spectrum (rainbow) and I honestly cannot concentrate on anything else if I know that someone has misplaced one of them. The single most obnoxious thing for me is programs (like for Sacrament meeting) that are not folded perfectly. I'd rather throw them away than sit for an hour with them in my lap, knowing that they are imperfect. Along the same note, if someone takes one of the markers (and throws off the perfect balance), I have to throw away any extras that are left to restore balance.... I'm so weird.
   
4. Masey slapped baby Jenna Lee across the face the other night. (really hard!) At the time, I had a hard time not thinking Masey should be hit back, but now I struggle with not laughing when I think about it...
   
5. I love long drives. I like to go to the top of a valley/mountain and just stare out for a while. It's incredibly therapeutic to see life from that perspective.
   
6. I have a love/hate relationship with singles wards. I refuse to believe that I'm as desperate as some of the people I've seen at singles wards; therefore I refuse to attend one. But, at the same time, the pickings at the family ward are pretty slim! =)
   

Well, that's it for me!
Tag! I tag... Dara, Karyn, Garan's Jessie, and My Mamma (I really don't know anyone else who has not been tagged!)

An admission

So, I've been really missing my Grandma lately.

Part of me feels like way too much time has gone by, and I need to just get over it, but at the same time, part of me never wants to get over it. I want to mourn forever.

The other night, I just had a long, stressful day at work and I really needed to just decompress. So, I quickly ran through the options of what to do in my mind and decided I really needed to talk to my Grandma. I guess it's an improvement that I did not have the chance to pick up my phone before the realization hit me. It was a really sad way to end an already stressful day, but I was able to store away that disappointment until I read Chris' blog today. So much of me wanted to comment, to add some small insight into my Grandma, the best example of womanly virtue I've ever encountered. I could not, though. Chris' words were too perfect. How do you add to such prose?

So, with tearful eyes, I decided instead to post this. It really has no use for anyone but myself as a vent for my emotions, but it feels really good to admit;

I miss my Grandma.

Are you marrying a girl or boy?

So I work with youth, and I'm (obviously) learning a lot about the sadness in the world, but also a lot about growing up nowadays.

The title of this blog came from a group of girls who were playing the Game of LIFE today. Apparently, one had landed on marriage, and for everyone in the group, it was a logical question; "Are you marrying a girl or boy?"

Now, you see, when I was younger, it was just a given that if you were a girl, two things would happen while playing the Game of LIFE:
A) Your "person" in the car would be pink, and
B) You would marry a blue (man).
If you were a boy, it would be the exact same, only opposite.

There was never any question about it, and I never remember thinking twice about it. Now, I hear these girls ask each other "are you marrying a girl or a boy?" and they think absolutely nothing of it.

I guess it's just another sign of the times. We are truly living in the last days.

Jenna Lee

Well, it's official! The Princess has (finally!) arrived!

7 lbs, 5 oz. 19.5 inches of cuteness! (and yes, if any of you remember Moses at this age, they might as well be twins. )

Life, the Universe and Everything...

So, when I quit my nanny job, I had all these idealized visions of life in back at my parents' house (I had been gone from home for so long that everything was idealized, including me in my family's eyes.) I would spend my mornings taking the little Monster of the house on walks, going to see Michelle almost every day, being absolutely absorbed in Small Brother's life and school, and just all-around being there, helpful and adored. I would, under no circumstances, think about or miss the Small Children I nannied for, nor would I regret my decision.

Well, let's fast forward to the reality of three weeks later. I've been to Chris and Michelle's house (LITERALLY one block away.) exactly two times. I spend more time sleeping every morning than having idyllic walks with the little Monster, I have yet to attend church because my "off" Sunday fell on Conference weekend, and all that has come to pass with Small Brother's schooling is a decision that he is going to be home schooled at least until the end of his 8th grade year. I find myself missing and thinking about the Small nannied Children, and I definitely feel like I have not seen Big Boy Mo for years. Do I regret my decision, though? I think I'll go with, Ask me again after I get my first full paycheck =)

It's funny how we always seem to have such good intentions, such grand plans in the beginning. Life usually has another plan, though! Not always worse, not always better. Just a whole lot different than you expect.

17 inches

Wow. I knew I'd be glad to have my hair (or most of it) gone, but at the same time, I almost miss it already. What can I say, I'm an odd one :)


Here are some after pics. (After the initial cut, not after it's been evened out) Sila, true to form, did not notice anything at all (why are you shaking your head around?) But the funniest reaction I've gotten so far was from the baby of the house (who was observant enough to notice 17 inches of missing hair). His favorite pastime has been to grab handfuls of my hair and play "Giddy up" with them. Well, tonight, just after I cut my hair, he reached up, grabbed a fistful of hair and ran his hand down the length of it. When the hair stopped after only a few (OK, probably 12) inches, he gave me the most shocked/offended face. He had to investigate the rest of my hair, and once he had and realized it was ALL short, he just turned away from me. I guess I'm just not that interesting anymore. :)

It's all coming off

The HAIR, silly! What else would I mean?!?! ;)

From the Back, with flash...

From the side; no flash.

Well, it's about that time again. It's been a few years since I really hacked my hair, I'm about due for another cut. I'm going in the morning to get my hair cut and donate it to Locks of Love.

I really wish that my motives were pure; that I only wanted to donate it to help little bald children, but the truth is:

I'm just getting sick of my hair.
Sick of how much conditioner I use
Sick of finding unbelievably long hairs on EVERYTHING!
Sick of how long it takes to twist it up into a bun (you'd be surprised how annoying those extra five seconds can be when you do it ten times a day)
Sick of having to braid it every night just so it doesn't get all disgusting before morning.
Sick of babies constantly playing "giddy up, horsie!" with my hair/reins.
Sick of having to extend my arms almost completely just to braid it.
Just all-around sick of my hair.

So, pure motives or otherwise, the small children without hair will be getting a handful of my hair. But first, I wanted to post a "before" picture. Mostly because I want to remember how long my hair was for when I start to regret that I cut it (in a few days) But also because I absolutely love the color of my hair (more than is normal or natural, I think), and I'm scared to death that my hair will magically stop growing in that color as soon as I cut it.

Anywho, keep your fingers crossed for me that my hair will not decide to turn black, and if all goes as planned, hopefully there will be some "after" pics tomorrow!

DonorsChoose.org

http://www.donorschoose.org

So, I was on the website Kiva, and feeling really good because I put some money up for a micro loan. Afterwards, though, I was talking to Pene and she told me about the Donors Choose website. The website not having been endorsed by TIME, Oprah, and the Today Show, I had not heard of it.

Basically, it's a website where American teachers can come and ask for donations to buy things needed for their classrooms. I saw lots of different things; one school wants basketballs for their Varsity basketball team. Another wants help buying footballs and pads for their team. One wants yarn and looms to let the kids weave hats, but the most heartbreaking one for me was a 1st grade teacher who wants a set of leveled reading books so that her low-income kids (apparently she has too many students to work with them one-on-one) can check them out and practice reading at home.

It was a real eye-opener for me. I realized how very blessed I was in my education. I had plenty of books to check out and read at all the schools I ever went to. During PE, we had at least 20 - 25 basketballs to play with (every three months or so when we did), and Small Brother obviously has football pads and more than one football floating around the house. It really made me realize that even here, in the United States of America, we have poverty and need.

So, go check out the Donors Choose website, please. Donate if you want, but I think everyone should at least look at what some of our schools are in need of. Hopefully, it will help you, like it did me, be grateful for your blessings.

People

I have major trust issues. I used to think it was only with men, but now I am beginning to think that one of two things is really going on:

Option 1: I have trust issues with everyone, male and female.
Option 2: It's easier to keep people at arms length than risk getting hurt.

Actually, now that I see them written out, I think it's both.

I do not go out looking for friends. If people want to be around me, they're more than welcome to do so, but I'm not going to go out of my way to be around them. Sometimes I tell myself it's just because I don't need friends; I'm content. The truth is that I do need friends, a LOT. It's just a lot easier to deal with having no friends than it is to deal with the fact that my friends could possibly hurt me.

So, I'm pretty much a master bridge burner. I make friends, get to really like them, realize I'm getting attached, and freak out. Now, it's time to not return calls, texts, or emails for months on end, hoping they take the hint. If that doesn't work, It's time to make plans with them and break them. Usually, it only takes one or two times to work.

It's only the people who make it past my evasion maneuvers that eventually get calls back and real plans with me. It's these people that I secretly thank my Father in Heaven for. They've earned the right to my friendship. It's those friends that are the real keepers. So, to all my patient, kind friends out there: Thanks.

Eternity, Supernovas, and the giant vacuum

So, Small Brother has apparently been terrified of eternity for a few months. Eternity is for him (and everyone else here) a hard thing to fathom, but he knows that it goes on forever. It's not so much the first 9 billion years of eternity that scares him, but the 10th billion year of eternity. That one's the clincher. For a while he would not tell me why, but the other day, he let me in on the deep, dark secret of his 11-year old life:

The 10 billionth year of eternity is when we will all be blasted to oblivion by the sun.


If you are as confused as I was, here's the story: Apparently Small Brother had a talk with Vili a few months ago that has haunted Small Brother ever since. Vili was (like the good RM he is) concerned about Small Brother's eternal salvation, so they had a chat, where apparently Vili explained such things as the Second Coming, the Millennium, and finally the Earth, in it's perfected state becoming our Celestial Kingdom.

All good and well until Small Brother remembered something he saw on the Science Channel (obviously the most reputable source on the subject =) that disturbed him and shook his faith. In roughly 10 billion years, the Sun is supposed to supernova, but before it does, it will expand well past Earth's orbit, engulfing our planet in gaseous flames. In the midst of all this spiritual talk Small Brother could imagine nothing but a whole bunch of Celestial beings/prisoners of Earth, burned to a crisp by the growing gasses of the Sun.

Well, as you can imagine, it took about all of my self control not to burst into laughter when I heard that. I calmly set the record straight with Small Brother that, no. The sun would not engulf us all in flame in the midst of our eternity.

I laughed long and hard after Small Brother left, until I remembered my own visions of the Second Coming.

I imagined a Honey-I-Shrunk-The-Kids-esque scene, where a giant vacuum would descend out of heaven and Heavenly Father would suck everyone else into heaven. (luckily, I had a plan. I would hang on to the dining room table's legs, which were obviously stronger than any vacuum I'd ever seen, and avoid being sucked into Heaven.)

Somehow, I think the saying (or is it scripture?) "Out of the mouth of babes" is not always quite accurate. =)

Grandmas

Well, My sister & her baby, and me & the kids I nanny for decided to catch TRAX (the closest thing to a commuter train Utah will ever have) downtown and hang out for a while yesterday. We just stayed around Temple square; went to the Church History Museum and then toured the Conference Center (It's amazing how big it is, and how little I really knew about it until yesterday!) It was pretty fun until the point where we had two kids sleeping and another honestly falling asleep on his feet, two pretty big purses/diaper bags, and only one small umbrella stroller. =)

Well, while we were on the train back home, I saw two really young kids (like 3-5) walk by, followed a little later by a girl who was probably 9 or 10. Me and my sister looked at each other after they passed, wondering where their parents were (they did NOT look like the type you would normally see unaccompanied on a train) A few stops down the line, I realized that there was an old lady slowly but surely making her way, a few rows at a time, back to where the kids were. She would take a few steps with her cane, and hanging on for dear life to the poles and seats around her until the train started moving, then she would sit down. When she got to us, we talked to her for a second while the train was moving. It turns out that the kids we saw were her grand kids, and the little boy (probably 3) absolutely loves trains, so his Grandma decided she would take them for a train ride. She was soft-spoken, and did not seem bothered one bit about the hassle their outing had become.

When I heard that, I immediately thought to myself "I'm going to call Grandma and tell her about this lady. That reminds me of something she would do." after a split second pause, my mind caught up with the times, and I remembered that Grandma is no longer just a phone call away. It was a heart-falling-to-the-bottom-of-your-chest feeling. The thought that my grandma is gone is still one I struggle with. It just seems like she is on vacation, and we're expecting her back any day now.

I found myself inexplicably drawn to that lady on the train after that. I wanted to follow her and watch her more. I am not sure what I thought would happen, or what I wanted to accomplish by following her (likely, she'd call the police about the stalker she picked up on the train). What I do know, though, is that I am happy for those kids on the train. I am happy that they have such a loving grandma who would make sacrifices like that for their sake and happiness, and I know that they love her as dearly as I love my Grandma. That thought makes me glad for them. Every little child deserves the love and adoration of a Grandma like that.

I am also grateful to the lady on the train for reminding me of one of the most simple, amicable traits my Grandma has; selflessness. It is something I always admired in her, and something I want to possess also. I think it will take a little bit of work to get to the point Grandma was at, but there can be no harm done by filling my life with service and love. In the end, it will bring me closer to my Father in Heaven, and in turn, to my Grandma.

Just knock twice.

So, I'm a nanny. I've been doing it for almost a year and a half, and it's pretty nice. Sometimes, it gets old, but I enjoy it for the most part, and it's nice to get paid to watch kids sometimes. Pro Bono is just not my angle =)

Well, this past month or so has been pretty draining, to say the least. First, there was Grandma being so sick. It seemed like any day I could get off work and find a ride up there, I was going back and forth to the Hospital (even though I know I was not there as much as I would have liked, I tried, right? ...Well, I hope it's alright, at least.)

Then, the very day I came back from Grandma's funeral, I found out that my boss' sister (who has been very sick with cancer the entire time I've worked for them) was getting only worse, and they'd be leaving to see her that afternoon, leaving me with the kids for a few days. The next two weeks have pretty much been just a revolving door at our house. The bosses would come home, get the kids, go back. Come home, stay half a day, and leave the kids. Come home for a day, leave. Just over and over, it seems. I'm OK with it; it does not bother me, but three or four of the times they have left have been at like 3 a.m.

At that time in the morning, I am usually in a very deep sleep. Anyone who has ever slept with me knows that I am a very hard person to wake up =) Here's how it usually goes; just before my bosses are about to leave, the wife (Runner Woman) will come to my room and knock really quietly, and pause for a few minutes. If I do not answer by then, Runner Woman will knock again, just a bit more loudly. The third time will be even more insistent, but still far too nice to convince me to leave the comfort of slumber. Usually, by the time I am conscious enough to know that she's really knocking, and it's for me, I have absolutely no idea how long she's been knocking, and I just end up feeling all sorts of guilty that they had to wait for me to get up. Needless to say, I think it would be a lot easier for both of us if she just knocked twice.

When I am roused out of deep sleep, I'm in a semi-conscious, foggy state. Usually, I try half-heartedly to decide whether the knock I heard was in my dream or real life; which determines whether I wake myself up enough to mumble "Yeah?", or slide back into sleep. This is the part where the two knocks come into play. The first knock is to wake me out of the deep sleep, and the second knock is to let me know that it's real, and not a dream. If you do them close enough, my body has less time to recognize the noise as a nuisance and tune it out. Life these past weeks could have been so much easier if she would just knock twice. It's a win-win situation for everyone. They do not have to wait for the slumbering beast to wake up, and I don't have to feel guilty for making them wait.

If ever in doubt, save us all some time and JUST KNOCK TWICE. < /RANT>

My Dæmon =)

Well, I've decided that I absolutely love the series His Dark Materials, by Phillip Pullman (more commonly known now for the first book, THE GOLDEN COMPASS, which is coming out in the movies on December 7, 2007). Anywho, for all of you who are looking for a book(s) to read, I highly suggest this series (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and the Amber Spyglass) I really like it, it's a pretty interesting take on fantasy, with different worlds, creatures, and a little bit of science mixed in there.

On the official movie website, I took a survey to find out what my Dæmon was, and here it is! Give me your input!

One more day.

Well, today is Tuesday. The funeral was yesterday, and it was an incredibly draining day. I knew it would be a hard day, but I was surprised at how hard it really was. I usually prefer to not show emotion in public, especially grief, because it is so hard to pull back the tides of my grief once they hit the shore. Needless to say, I about lost it when they closed the casket for the last time on my beautiful, sweet Grandma. After that, I pretty much closed the door on those emotions, and I did marvelously well through the rest of the funeral. The only problem is that now I am in a state of denial. It's hard to even admit it; like saying it out loud will vanish the make-believe world I live in, where Grandma's not really dead, just on an unexplained vacation. My little cousin, I'll call her Bright-eyes, is absolutely convinced that Grandma is coming back to earth in a few weeks when the second coming comes. It must be so comforting for Bright-eyes to think this; it's what my irrational mind is begging me to believe.

I was supposed to work today, go to mutual tonight, and pretty much return to my normal life, but some unexplained emotion urges me to stay here. To be close to Grandpa, and this house. I am not sure what the pull is; maybe it's because Grandpa and Grandma were always such a package deal. I've rarely ever seen one without the other... I think some part of my subconscious is hoping that, by staying close to Grandpa, I might be able to stay close to Grandma also. I'm not sure that I will ever know, but for one more night, I am staying here, close to my Grandpa, close to this house, and close to this town that Grandma loved so. One day, I'll have to go back to normal life and pretend to be healed and recuperated, but not today. I am blessed with one more day.

Might as well keep going!

I really like small towns. They tend to be quiet, slow places where you can really hear yourself think. Every time I come to a small town, it seems so peaceful and restful, like the rest of the world can go away but this town will stay as it has always been, untouched.

Most times, I like the quiet; it gives you a chance to think and make decisions with a clear mind. This time, however, I am wishing for the rush of my normal life, I am wishing for anything else to distract me and keep my mind busy. The charm has left this place. This town is tainted. Like other small towns, it remains in the past; the only difference is that this town's past is a sad one, surrounded by reminders of my Grandma.

One Day, I know I will yearn for any reminder of my Grandma, but for today, all I want is to escape this place and all its sad reminders.

Thoughts on the Day...

Well... I am really not sure what to say right now. This does not seem like the perfect time to start a blog, but at the same time, all I want to do right now is write. Something about writing is so therapeutic for me. It's a vent for my emotions, my thoughts, and who knows what else. I am not sure how often I'm going to be posting, but here is my inaugural post! :)

Yesterday, at around noon, my Grandma passed away. It's unfathomable to me that she is really gone.

The night before she passed, after leaving the hospital for the last time, I sat down and wrote a list of all the things I thought I would miss about my grandma. They went from the trivial (Christmas decorations) to the deeply personal (our hours-long chats on the phone when I needed advice, or just a kind ear). The list was huge, it took up pages and pages of my journal. By the time I was finished, I felt emotionally drained and exhausted, but it felt good to make the list. The following morning, my worst fears were confirmed when I got the call telling me about Grandma's passing.

When I got to grandma's house, I felt like I was emotionally prepared to comfort Grandpa, clean, mourn, whatever this house could throw at me. That all went out the window when I walked in and saw a pair of red, white, and blue shoes of hers. When I saw them, my heart dropped. I realized that I was prepared for a generic, completely clear house, not the home my Grandma walked out of days ago. It seems like every where I turn, I see something, either small or large, that screams GRANDMA! From her piano to her special table to the magazines scattered around the desk, my grandma's imprint is on everything in sight.

It was after this realization that I realized something else; My grandma left an imprint on me, also. Her example of womanly virtue, faith, and motherhood will stay with me throughout my life. Her patience, kindness and beauty are forever embedded in my memories. It is for this that I am most grateful. I know that for now, I will mourn her death, but I take comfort in the knowledge that Familes are forever. My Grandma is not simply gone. She is in a truly better place, surrounded by countless loved ones and family members. There's only so much mourning you can do with that kind of knowledge.

Rest Well, Grandma!

Ofa Lahi 'Atu!