Saying Goodbye

As often happens in life, I feel like my Grandma's death was a slow, easing-into-things sort of affair.  So much so that it really does feel like a journey rather than a single event.  My sister Tracy has been living on Bainbridge Island these last few months, and made a point of visiting my Grandma a lot.  Sometimes when Grandma was really aware, Tracy would FaceTime with us so we could all say Hi, which was really nice.  About a month ago when she did this, I thought to myself, This might be the last time we talk.  And I was grateful to have had such a nice chat with my 101-year-old grandmother.  I was glad she got to wave at all of my children.

Shortly after that conversation, Grandma had several days where she could not be woken up or fed.  Tracy told me this while she was there visiting, and I could hear Grandma moaning in the background while we spoke.  And this was upsetting-- she sounded so forlorn.  It was nice knowing that Tracy was there for her.  I expected any day to get a phone call, but it didn't come.  Grandma woke up a little bit and ate some yogurt, but then continued to mostly sleep.  Tracy had to go out of town for a few days-- she worried about leaving my grandma, but my parents assured her that she needed to keep living her own life.  (They've had this conversation with themselves every time they've gone out of town for the last ten years, so they were used to this concern.)

A week later, my Mom called on Camille's birthday and I assumed she was calling to sing to Camille.  But as I was answering, Mom called out to my Dad, "I'm calling Alanna right now" and I immediately knew she had not called for Camille.  I knew that she was calling each of us, one by one, to tell us that Grandma had passed away.

It made us sad at first that Grandma had been alone when she died.  But then several of us realized (almost at the same time) that this was exactly how Grandma would have wanted it.  When we were little and Grandma would come to our house for the holidays, after all the celebrations were over, she always liked to get up early and leave while we were still asleep.  (My Mom actually got after her for this, explaining that we all wanted a chance to say goodbye and were upset by her sudden absence.  So she stopped doing that at the time.)  But Grandma didn't like goodbyes and now that I'm older, I understand that sentiment-- sometimes goodbyes are just a little too much; it can feel better to just slip away and skip that step entirely.

The bishop for the Bainbridge Island ward, Bishop Cook, is also a mortician and he had been visiting my grandma regularly (as a bishop-- not in his funereal capacity!).  He had seen her just the week before and held her hands and prayed with her; he said she wasn't talking much, but had squeezed his hands very tightly during their prayer and at various moments during their conversation.  She knew what was going on.  He had talked with her about how the time would be coming soon when she would be reunited with my Grandfather, who died 36 years ago when I was just one.  She squeezed his hands even tighter at this.  Bishop Cook made an appointment to see her the following Thursday afternoon, and I truly believe that Grandma was pleased that she made things simple for him by passing away that morning, so that he could still come as planned, but for a different reason. 

My Grandma was classy like that.

My parents made arrangements to leave their mission for a few days for the funeral and we were all able to fly home for it.  We were also all there for my Dad's 70th birthday, which felt like another gift from my Grandma to her son.

I'll tell you more soon-- more about Grandma and more about the trip.  But for now I wanted you to understand the length of this journey, and how even though it's very sad, everything seems to have happened exactly as it should have.  And how often can you say that in life?

Happy Birthday, Camille!

She's been acting like it for a while now, but today is the day that Camille officially turns TWO. 

Pretending to sleep is one of their favorite pastimes

This girl.  She's so spunky.  She's so funny.  She can be so fun, but if you cross her-- watch out.  She will not put up with any crap from anyone.

I'm not sure what this game was, but it made me laugh

She is so loved by her siblings, a fact that makes me happier than just about anything else.

Her hair floats around her head like a wild cloud, and there doesn't seem to be much within my power to tame it.  She bosses Colton around and picks fights with him and loves him so much-- they are best friends and worst enemies all the time.

Waiting for the bus on a cold day

She got Bentley to wrap her up all snug

She pops out of her crib in the morning exclaiming, "Iiiiit's morning!" And if I tell her it's nap time, she argues with me by insisting, "Iiiiiiiit's morning!"

Dressed up as Buzz Lightyear

She likes to ask for something and then change her mind, saying, "Ackshwee, no no no..."

Wearing Kendra's soccer medallion.  Because, why not?

Who could have guessed that she was exactly what our family needed?

Sleeping deeply

I love my little Cami-P so very much.  What a wonderful two years it's been!

Interpretation

I was driving around with the radio on a few weeks ago when the DJ announced that up next was "Cake by the Ocean."  I thought she meant, a song by the group Cake called "By the Ocean" and since I like Cake, I was excited to hear it.  But as soon as the vocals began, it was clear that this was not Cake (that guy has such a gravelly voice you can barely call it singing).  So then I thought maybe it was a song called "Cake" by a group called "The Ocean."  Because that would have made sense, too.

It was at least halfway through the song before I realized the song itself was called "Cake by the Ocean."  Punctuation-- it will get you every time, I'm telling you!

Anyway, it's a catchy song and now I seem to hear it all the time, which is fine, since I like it.  But I told Craig that I wasn't sure eating cake by the ocean was a good idea since you'd get sand everywhere.  Craig said that he'd heard that "cake" was supposed to be a euphemism for sex.  Isn't everything, these days?

But I'm pretty sure either way, the sand would be a problem.

Serving a Purpose

I have a vague recollection of refusing to eat my dinner to the point that my Dad finally got angry and sent me to my room.  This happened before my family moved to Bainbridge, so I must have been about four years old.  I sat in my room (in my memory, I was sitting in the dark, although it's very likely that I made that up) until my mother came in with a flashlight and looked down my throat.  Whatever she saw alarmed her enough that she made my Dad take me to the hospital that very night. 

The doctor looked at my throat and determined that my tonsils were indeed enlarged, but he felt they weren't bad enough for a tonsillectomy.  He took off his glove, blew it up like a balloon, and drew a face on it-- the thumb becoming a nose, the fingers crazy hair-- and gave it to me.  I was delighted with my present and went home with my tonsils still intact, ready to show off my balloon to my sisters.  And I assume that my Dad got to feel bad about being so mean to me, something every kid longs for.

I've regretted that doctor's decision ever since.  My tonsils are just huge, nearly the size of golf balls.  And they're prone to getting these nasty little gunky things stuck between them and the wall of my mouth.  Every few weeks, I have to shine a flashlight into the back of my mouth and swipe around to dislodge them.  It leaves me gagging and spitting, while Craig hollers out reminders me that bulimia is not cool.  (Ha ha, Craig.)

Anyway, after my most recent bout of poking and gagging, I was telling Craig that I sure wished I could have my tonsils removed already.  The only purpose they seem to serve is annoying me.  I once begged a BYU doctor to do it, but he just laughed and said there was no way my student health insurance would ever cover it.

I googled those gross things (tonsilloliths or "tonsil stones," but don't look them up-- they're even bigger and grosser on-line!) which led to me googling tonsils in general.  And it turns out that tonsils actually DO serve a purpose! "As part of the immune system, the tonsils fight infection; they are first line of defense in the throat."  "A main function of the tonsils is to trap germs (bacteria and viruses) which you may breathe in.  Proteins called antibodies produced by the immune cells in the tonsils help to kill germs and help to prevent throat and lung infections."

That was especially interesting to learn because I've noticed over the years that one of my superpowers is that I hardly ever get sick.  Sure, I'll get the occasional cold.  And I'm just enough of a hypochondriac that any time there's a tickle in my throat I gear up for something awful to hit me.  But usually it just fades away and I'm fine.  When you consider just how much my kids like to sneeze and cough on me every time they're sick (and between the five of them, someone always seems to have a runny nose or something), it really is kind of remarkable how healthy I am.  All this time I've been cursing them, but my enormous, sometimes gross tonsils are probably why I'm so healthy!

Sorry, tonsils, that I wanted you cut out of the back of my throat!  I guess we can keep working together after all!

Looking Up

I think it's nice that we get the two worst months out of the way right at the beginning of the year.  January, the longer of the two, is all over, and now we've just got to survive a short February before we can move on to March and all its delights!  Nice work, whoever figure out our modern calendar!  I approve!


Am I the only one who feels like I deserve a pat on the back for getting through January?