no weddings and a funeral

another funeral this winter... my other grandma this time, grandma betty. she had been my absolute favorite as a kid, we just had the most fun together and adored each other to bits. she had been sick since before i can remember and every year we wondered if this would be her last. we had been expecting this for so long that when the phone call finally came in, i was shocked and relieved at the same time. she hadn't been living for so long... it seemed to me that she just sort of existed much of the time, my grandpa at her side feeding her, giving her pills, helping her dress and undress. her life seemed vivid and awake only when she would talk to us or when she had visitors or when she got to go out to dinner or the occasional big party. my perception of her life between these events or moments was one of monotony and difficulty and pain and longing.

watching my grandpa these last few days, i think my idea of her boring monotonous "life" between visits may have been wrong. grandpa bill, once lanky, strong, and stoic, is almost unrecognizable under the weight of the last year. this man, this man who once seemed to be able to take care of everyone (even my own dad) and do so without missing a beat, can hardly make it an hour without crying. and all he can do is talk about how much he misses her, how much he wants to see her, how he thought she would come back from this one. its so strange to watch someone once so strong and capable, become someone who is now utterly breakable, someone who seems to have had all the life and energy drained from him.

watching him, its breaking my heart... but, a few days in, i am now seeing that this is the result of loving someone for almost 60 years, loving them through every imaginable physical ailment over 20 years, loving them despite extreme lows, loving them through kids and grandkids, loving them as you travel and explore and build together, loving them in the boring everyday-ness of life... this deep sadness is due to this deep love.

and so maybe, though my grandma's life seemed to brighten up so much in our presence, her steady, solid, lasting marriage was this sustained liveliness that kept her going. maybe it wasn't always the high of her granchildren's constant presence, or the hope of a healthy body, or the desire for the ability to travel (all things she desperately wished she had)... maybe what she had every day, day in and day out, with her everloving bill, maybe she fought for that just as much.

in the mess

i guess i once said something to the effect of:

its not like you ever figure out all your issues-- you just learn over the years to navigate the mess.

i was surprised by that statement, because i am not impressed with much that i say- except that that seemed like something truer than i could have known at the time. and its so true now.

here i am in my room. raining outside, cold outside (i haaaate cold), my feet at the heater, candles lit, wearing 3 layers of warmth. my room is destroyed.

boxes of christmas gifts unwrapped, laying on one corner. my bed piled with pillows and un-put-away clothes i couldn't decide about early this morning. my floor scattered with boots i need to keep my constantly cold feet from completely freezing. all my bills and important papers fill my dresser and a stack of half made christmas cards on my chair. my purse upside down. my closet a mess. my bed unmade.

here i am in the mess.

i have learned so much recently-- all the things i wrote about in may on my cottage castle rereat have become more real... and their reasons clearer. but this time, the consequences of waiting to deal with them almost became too much. and i almost went down. but, by the hand of community and the grace of my life's Author, the chapter kept going and is being written.

it doesn't mean its all easy. the mess is still here... but i am learning to be more ok with the messes presence, to understand its not as scary or overwhelming or powerful as i had once let it be. maybe its simply naming it. like, when you see a pile of something gross and you can't figure out what it is, it makes it that much grosser. like a pile of rotting food could look like other things (you know other things...) and then when you realize its just old food, you arent as grossed out. Our big piles of stuff look way more forbidding in the dark-- what IS that massive lump? What's in it? What underneath it-- then you turn on the light and realize its just a bunch of clothes you didnt put away. what we don't know always seems so much worse.

i am a mess.

or, rather, i am aware of my mess. and i see it for what it is... and what it is not. and i am ok with it, because i know i am not defined by it. its just a part of me that will always be there til i get to be made completely Whole one day.

god bless this mess.