From the Heart

Last summer Bill and I didn't get to take the girls camping because I wasn't working and we were carefully, painstakingly watching every penny. It was a long, boring and sad summer for the kids but throughout it all, my girls were so self-sacrificing and kind to their stressed-out Mama Bear, so I promised the girls that we would go to Flaming Gorge this year to make up for it. We have been to the Gorge before and so we know that there is ONE PERFECT CAMPSITE THAT WE MUST HAVE.. all other campsites pale in comparison to our favorite site. This perfect campsite is difficult to reserve so I had book our trip back in February to guarantee that we could reserve it. Trust me when I say that the anticipation of that trip is what kept us from strangling each other throughout the long winter and wet spring. We were literally counting the days until our camping / boating trip to Flaming Gorge!

Then Grandma got sick and everything changed.

As Grandma's health continued to deteriorate, and every single moment became even more precious than the last, we became increasingly uncomfortable with leaving at all, let alone going on a "fun" camping trip. For me it was never about losing the money if we canceled our reservation. I could not bear the thought of losing my Grandma while we were out "having fun" and while my mom was back at home, her heart breaking every day. What I cared about was doing the right thing... the best thing... and no one could tell me what the right thing was. I agonized over the decision for weeks until finally, with two days left to decide, my mom talked us into going by assuring me that everything would be the same when we got back.

I had been visiting Grandma and Grandpa at least once a week, but prior to leaving for The Gorge I stopped by every day after work. I felt compelled to be there, to hold Grandma's hand and just be near her. She was always so cute, working hard to smile and laugh while I was there in spite of her own discomfort. I simply cannot express how beautiful her spirit is. Grandma was always concerned about how I was doing and she never failed to ask about the girls. As I held her hand, I remember marveling over how it felt smooth and cool as marble, yet velvety soft and perfectly delicate. Grandma's hands seemed so tiny and I suppose they always have been, but if you have ever heard her play the piano - you would immediately visualize her hands as strong and as powerful as her music. As I cradled Grandma's hand in my own, I studied the thin, gold band on her finger and committed the image to memory. I will never forget the beautiful music she played, the cute way she gripped her umbrella during a Boston storm, and the way she always folded her hands across her lap in the car. I know there are many pictures in existence that will show my grandma's hands, but the image of her hand in my own is the one I will forever cherish.


I told Carley recently that I now understand, with perfect clarity, the expression "choking back tears" because every time I left my grandma's house I struggled to breathe and literally felt like I was choking. In fact, if any one saw me driving home, I'm sure they must have stared in shock at the woman sobbing hysterically behind the wheel. I am a cryer - I always have been and I always will be. And let me further explain that when I am emotionally charged up, I don't cry silently.. oh no.. that would be too easy! Instead, when I cry there is this unfair chain of events that begins with an immediate changing of the color of my nose. What is that about? Even before my tear ducts think about warming up, my nose turns an alarming and unmistakable shade of red! A person with teary eyes can easily lie and claim allergies, but a RED NOSE? What lie could I possibly spin about that? "Uh yeah, I thought that the kids would be very impressed if I could imitate Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer for Christmas this year so I have been practicing. Would you like to play some Reindeer Games?" I somehow don't think anyone would buy it. Soon after the nose color change, the sniffles set in and are immediately followed by uncontrollable sobs that sound like I'm attempting to swallow a family of tree frogs. That about sums it up.. when I cry, I become the Red Nosed-Sniffling-Tree Frog Swallower! As you can imagine, this spectacle is very difficult to hide or control.

But for the first time in my life, I felt the overwhelming importance of holding back the tears because I didn't want to upset Grandma by openly bawling in front of her. During my last visit with Grandma, I was almost grateful that I was only allowed a short time with her because the pain in my chest was absolute agony. I struggled to control my emotions as I kept silently reminding myself to breathe. After sitting by Grandma's side and holding her velvety-cool hand, I stood and kissed her on the forehead. My parting words to her were, "Grandma, I love you so much." To which she replied, "I love you so much too. And please tell the girls how much I love each of them." Those are mighty powerful and wonderfully precious parting words, and on the way home I sobbed harder than I ever have in my life. Two days later, my mom and her siblings decided that they could no longer allow visitors because it was too painful and taxing for Grandma. I have to remind myself now to be at peace and hold those parting words, like a talisman, in my heart forever.

I will write about our trip The Gorge soon, for now I need to do my best to hide my Rudolph-Red nose and get back to work.