this week

I've been thinking a lot about my 90-year-old grandma, and about family, this week.

I suppose that's because Dad called me late Friday night, telling me that Grandma had had a massive stroke and wasn't expected to live through the night.

One might say, by misguided way of comfort, that she's lived 90 great years, and has had a good life. And one would be right. But what I have failed to realize until now, when I've had similar thoughts directed toward other people whose grandparents have died, is that it doesn't so much matter what the quality of the person's life is. The more important fact is, I'm going to miss her.

I have a lot more eulogizing to do, but fortunately, it'll have to wait for a later post. Turns out, Grandma's more of a fighter than the ever-pessimistic doc gave her credit for. She'll never be the same, but she's still with us -- paralyzed on one side, but holding her own without life support machines. The doc's still pessimistic, but I haven't had a 'bad news' call from my parents yet, so there must be hope, or at least stability in her condition.

Needless to say, it's frustrating to be this far away from her. (she's in Washington state, with the rest of my family.) I used to enjoy hanging out with my grandma now and then, when I lived near Seattle. She's a gracious, loving woman, and a tenacious game-player. The same could be said for most of the members of my family. It's not a family gathering without at least one hotly contested game of cards going on somewhere in the house. That's one reason why it never feels like a holiday when I'm not with my family, and always does when I'm with them, no matter what the calendar might say.

I thought at first that I might be spending this last week of maternity leave in Washington state, for Grandma's funeral. I'm certainly glad that had turned out not to be the case. Instead, though, I have two tumultuous transitional periods of life to sit in this week. Whoopee! It's not like I've been reacting openly, but today when I was driving home from the doctor (nothing serious; a consultation about birth control methods, if you must know), a turtle was crossing the road in front of me, and I was going about 45 miles an hour and swerved to avoid hitting it. So help me, if I had squashed that turtle, I would've been a sobbing wreck for most of the rest of the day. (for the record, I love turtles. They're one of my favorite animals. But still.)

Yesterday was Matt's and my second anniversary. Thus far in our union, we've been doing things in as low-key a manner as we feel we can get away with. Recent penny-pinching (two kids in some form of day care! Parts of two mortgages to chip in for! Higher gas prices! You know the tune for yourselves, no doubt) has led us to go to almost no extremes in our observation of things like birthdays and anniversaries. But that's okay, we've decided. It feels better to be wise these days than to feel obligated to make purchases we really don't need.

Things aren't what make the day, and our marriage, special, after all. It seems that, particularly for an anniversary, I'm just not in the mental groove yet, anyway. We got married. That was fun. We have a marriage, and that is special in and of itself. The day it happened seems not to have much relevance to me at this point, other than that it's my favorite time of year. Largely why we chose to get married when we did -- we both feel the same about autumn. Especially here in the D.C. area, where one can once again step outside one's house without being fried (in the sun) or eaten alive by bugs (in the shade). Where one can again hope for an electric bill that won't be too much of a shock (hee!). When one can watch the leaves change color, and contemplate the passing of seasons, and of life, and the fact that one cannot hold too tightly to any stage, even if one wished to.