Over the river and through the woods

  

Yesterday morning I awoke with a feeling of trepidation. I think I was nervous. I wasn’t sure what to expect..

I drove over the river (or I should say over the railroad tracks, I’ve never seen so many tracks crossing the highway anywhere else) and through the deep dark woods of WI to take the kids to see grandma (my mother-in-law Martha). She didn’t make it over for Thanksgivng. In fact, she has gotten to the point where she is no longer eating much more than applesauce. 

For years, my son Alex and my husband Paul joined Paul’s stepdad Darryl to hunt. For the last couple of years, Martha would come to my house and spend the weekend playing cards, working puzzles, and watching movies. But she is too sick to go anywhere now. She has stage 4 terminal cancer. The chemo stopped working and the cancer has spread. The guys have been visiting her the last couple of weekends, but I haven’t had the chance to visit for awhile. I felt that it was important to take Angel out to see her while she was home from college for a few days. Will it be the last time?

I was afraid. Afraid of what I would find. Paul has been coming home upset from his time spent there. He didn’t know why. Then after awhile, he said that it was horrible seeing his mother die.

So I was afraid. My stomach felt upset. Would she be in great pain? Would she forget my name like the last time I visited. It’s hard to see someone who was once so vibrant and full of life fade away. She lost over 50 lbs and is just skin and bones. Her hair is starting to grow back in a brown patch of fuzz, so different from her black curly long hair she once had. Her gait is slow, she aged 20 years in a year. 

She was happy to see us. 

I was able to sneak away for awhile to see the deer stands. In all these years, I have never seen where they hunt.  In all those years, they only got one buck. To think just this last week we awoke to find a deer delivered to the end of our driveway, but the meat was not salvageable.  
Regardless, if they don’t bring back a buck, every year they bring back a Christmas tree. 

I had to show you a picture of Alex and Paul at Alex’s tree stand. 

Our visit with Martha went better than the girls and I expected. Martha is such an unrealistic optimist that I think she makes herself feel better. She kept talking about the day that she will get better and be able to come over to visit. That day will never come, but maybe it is better that she believes it.  It was nice to see her so upbeat and not have to see her suffer. The thought of watching a loved one suffer is unbearable.

Thanksgiving break is officially over now. Today I dropped Angel off to catch her carpool for the 4 hour drive back to school. It was strange to see her go back again with her suitcase full. I don’t always like my new reality, but I have learned to accept it. If only I could stop time for just a few seconds…

I dropped Angel off and came home to a glorious blue Christmas tree. I am excited for the beginning of the next holiday season. A time of hope and light. A time of such intense busyness that I forget all of my troubles.. 

I am going to decorate my tree tonight..

28. My love language

Day 28: What is your love language?

I have to say that my love language is definitely quality time followed pretty closely by acts of service. I show others that I love them in the same way. The other common love languages don’t do anything for me at all. I feel uncomfortable with encouraging words, I don’t like being touched, and I would rather buy what I want rather than get gifts..

Maybe that is why I felt so loved by my grandma. When I came over, she dropped everything that she was doing to sit down and talk with me. We often would share a cup of tea and talk about what happened while we were apart. Our time together never ended up in an argument or with her giving unsolicited advice. Sometimes we would sit in silence and work puzzles together. She would make my favorite meals and send me off with a batch of fresh cookies. She sewed doll clothes for me while I played with my doll house on the floor next to her. She was the one that painstakingly painted the little house walls and decorated it for me. She played board games with me. She stitched up my clothes that were ripped and put the buttons back on.

Growing up, my mother worked all of the time. When she wasn’t working, she was taking care of my autistic brother Matt. She didn’t have a lot of extra time for me. But she always brought me home gifts. I knew that she cared, but it wasn’t my way of receiving love.

Sometimes I wonder if part of the reason that I stayed home with my kids when they were little was to shower them with quality time. I also showered them with acts of service. I still do, but they don’t seem to want that as much anymore as teens.

Maybe my love language is also a reason why I get so upset when I make plans with friends or family and they cancel out last minute for no good reason. It makes me feel like I am not important to them.

My husband’s love language is words of encouragement. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t come naturally to me. Growing up, criticism was doled out more than kind words. The words just sound so fake coming out of my mouth. I feel so inadequate sometimes.. Paul tries to show me that he loves me by giving me quality time, but it doesn’t come naturally to him either. It always seems like it has to be a conscious effort to show love in ways that are alien to us.

It is very possible to give and receive love from people that have different languages and live a fulfilled life. But it is always wonderful to have a few people in your life that speak your language.. It really made me miss my grandma today..