Monday, Monday

It's a gloomy, gray morning. Damp. Dark. Dank. It personifies my mood. My kids pulled the covers over their heads, turned away from me and groaned: they were resistant to get up out of their warm beds to face their first day back to school after "spring" break. I was relieved to be back to the comfortable, predictable routine after 10 days off, but I kept that relief under wraps. I felt guilty for feeling that I was winning my freedom as they mourned the loss of their's for the next 8 1/2 weeks until summer vacation. The thing is...I felt like doing absolutely nothing this past week...nada...zilch...zero! That just really was not an option and, therefore, the week felt very long and extremely laborious.

Saturday was glorious. The warmth and sunshine preformed wonders on my disposition as did welcoming my kids home after a couple of days enjoyed at "Camp Grandpa." The icing on the cake was the impromptu call from my soul sister suggesting a spontaneous bbq. It really was just what I needed. The kids (5 of whom are 8 and under and the other 2 fall in the 40 and older group) played baseball, they jumped in the bounce house, made messy sand creations and all the while we talked without coming up for air. Whenever we get talking, we seldom finish a single conversation because there is always so much ground to cover, feelings to share, stories to tell. We celebrate a true oral tradition. We do talk every couple days and are still are never at a loss for words. I felt energized.

Then Sunday it was rainy and cold once again. I woke up dragging...not refreshed, and after I opened my email, it was downhill the rest of the day. I found a message from my Mom's brother with regard to my Grandmother's deteriorating condition. My Grandma, who turned 91 last month, is not likely to see the May flowers. I was completely overcome with palpable grief when I saw the words in black and white. It certainly surprised me as this news has been a long time coming. It was no surprise...my reaction was such a surprise though. Immediately, I regretted my decision to forgo Sunday mass.

Several years ago, the whole family headed out West to celebrate Grandma Doe's 85th birthday. It was a nice visit and the lady of honor was in her element as the celebrated center of attention. I left there with a feeling of absolute certainty that I would not see her again in this world. When I said, "goodbye," I was saying farewell for good.

I was wrong. I've been back twice. The first time so she could meet my son and then a second time to lend my Mom support. My Grandma was no longer living on her own when we made our last visit, she had long bouts of confusion and she was weak and frail. Hospice took over while we were there and we once again said our "goodbyes." I expected a call any day. It's been two years and counting. She is their longest living hospice patient...Grandma Doe the legend.

I never thought that my frail Grandma who was so ready to go would outlive my Mom - a woman who was in no way ready to leave. Sometimes it's painfully true...Only the Good Die Young. The truth is that my Grandma was a selfish and narcissistic woman. Proud and vain and cold and distant beyond the miles that separated us for all of my life. While she was a decent absentee Grandma, she was not a nurturing or supportive mother to my Mom. With each year, I came to see through her fancy gifts and I came to realize the truth of her fly by night visits. The hurt in my Mother's heart over the emptiness of their relationship...over not 'having" her mother...was all too clear. I always "had" my Mom...I still "have" her.

When my Mom died, I wasn't the only one to question aloud - "Why her?" Even as I know that it doesn't work this way, the words formed on my lips and I wanted an answer. Yet I know who makes this choice, I accept it is not tit for tat, I celebrate that one life is not more valuable than another. I am ashamed to admit that I have more or less cut off communications with my last living grandparent. I have not entertained a visit, I don't call, I seldom write and only send random pictures. Random pictures from myself, my cousins, my mother that I was surprised to find stored for safe keeping the last time I was there. They were tucked beside her bundle of old love letters from her second husband, a man she chose to move clear across the country for only months after her teenage children tragically lost their father...my Mom's hero...a true legend. I know my Grandma loved her second husband, and he loved her, but it is almost as if they were so consumed with one another that there wasn't room for any one else - not children, not grandchildren.

This is the reason she is spending her last days alone thousands of miles from family with a stack of pictures...pictures of people she doesn't even know... and love letters from a man long ago passed on.

It is tragically sad and I wish it were different. I wish I could be by my Grandma's side. I cherish the relationship my Mom and I shared. I am eternally grateful that she refused to let history repeat itself and the only solace in her untimely death aside to the end of her suffer ring and the promise of His mercy and eternal life, was her reunion with her father...the person who taught her how to love.

I have forgiven my Grandma for the way she hurt my Mom over and over again. Today I am struggling myself with really saying "goodbye" to someone who cannot hear or understand what I have to say. She no longer has a phone, she cannot read, and I think she has at least one foot in the next life. Then again it's always just "goodbye" for now, and I have no doubt that we'll pick up where we left off when we meet again in the world where all wrongs are made right and then laid to rest.