Full Circle

It's happening again.  A situation I had hoped never to face again is staring me down.  Let me explain.  Back in March, when my maternity leave ended, I had to decide whether to go back to work full time or part time or not at all.  Financially, the smart thing to do was work full time, since Rob is still in school and money isn't exactly growing on the bush in our backyard.  But I couldn't face the prospect of letting someone else, some random stranger, raise my little girl.  So in the end Rob and I worked out a schedule where we both work part time, switching off so one of us is always at home with Isabella.  It means Rob and I didn't see each other very often, but it's worth it; Isabella is being raised by her parents, the way it should be.

Now, however, that's all over.  In a couple weeks Rob's classes resume after the summer break, and he'll no longer be able to watch Isabella during the day while I'm at work.  He'll also be cutting down on the number of hours he works so he can concentrate on school, which is good, except he won't be bringing in much money.  That left me with three options: One, continue to work part time and put Isabella in a day home when necessary.  Two, only work the evenings when Rob is not working.  Three, work full time and put Isabella in a day home full time.  None of them are appealing.  The first two don't leave us with enough money to fill our stomachs (did you know that partime daycare costs the same as full time?), while the third means ripping my heart our and freezing it for later.

Anyway, after much indecision I finally decided that I needed to just not think about it, and do what I have to do.  I called around and made a few visits to find a day home, all the while trying not to think what it would mean.  How long will this other place be where she spends most of her waking hours?  One year?  Two?  Five?  Will the day home lady give her the attention she needs?  Teach her?  Love her?  Worse, will "mommy" become an empty word to her, the name of that woman who puts her in bed at night but she otherwise never sees?  How many firsts will I miss?

But I can't think about all of that, or my heart will burst, I'll break down crying and I won't be able to enjoy these last few days that I have with her.  I have to take advanatage of every minute, drink in every every smile, because very soon I won't be there to see them.

I'll do what I have to do, but this is torture.

For my Grandma

A little over a week ago, July 30 to be precise, my last surviving grandparent passed away. Grandma Genevieve (my mother's mother) was an incredibly sweet woman who always had a smile and a kind word for everyone. While I wasn't able to attend, I heard from those who did that her funeral was packed with people from far and wide to say goodbye to their friend. What I remember best about her is her garden. As long as her health allowed her, and often even when it didn't, Grandma was out in that garden, planting, weeding, watering, gathering. I loved eating what came out of that garden; everything was so full of flavour, so the way all fruits and vegetables should taste. I often made a lunch of tomatoes and cucumbers, lightly salted. Ymm!

My Grandma was kind of like her garden. There was nothing artificial about her, she was a genuinely lovely person, and everyone that knew her was better for it.

I don't have a lot of experience with death, and my feelings on the subject are all a jumble.  That's why it's taken me so long to write about this; I had to sort it all out.  This is what I've come up with:  First, I'm sad, because I'm essentially a selfish person and I'll miss her.  Second, I'm somewhat relieved.  The last few weeks, and maybe years, of her life were not pleasant for her, and it's good to know that she's not in pain anymore.  Third, I'm happy.  Happy that my grandma's dead?  Not exactly.  I'm full of joy and gratitude beacuse I know the Plan; I know our loving Heavenly Father has a place for her.  Death is not the end.  I'll see my grandma again.

Genevieve as a young woman

Grandma is at the back left, my mother in the middle

Left to right:  My dad, me, Isabella, my mother, and Grandma, only weeks before she died