It's been a rough few weeks, full of surprises and hard truths. It's forced me to recognize some things about myself that I knew but didn't want to admit. I wouldn't say that I deny things, but I can certainly delay dealing with certain aspects of my life and personality for quite awhile. I think it's a defense mechanism, I deal with them either until I'm ready or until I have to.
Most of this stems from wanting a family. I've been putting myself under the microscope and thinking about who I want to be for my future kids, and frankly I'd love to be just like my Mom. She was the greatest Mom, in my opinion, because she was mine and she understood me like no one else ever could. I never hated her, never fought with her (except over homework), deep down I always loved her. I always had the sense that she took pride in being a parent, even when it was difficult. She had a certain grace and air about her that, to a child, always seemed calm. But I'm not calm. I'm not Mom, and I'm not Dad. I'm me. And who is this person that's evolved? And how can I be a better human being? How can I feel more satisfied with my life? Changes need to be made. So if I've seemed reclusive, if I've making statements that sound like questions, if I seem to be in my head all the time, well, that's because I am. I am trying very hard to make some very substantial and important changes in my life, and what's great is that Matt's doing the same thing. We have made some very tough decisions these last few weeks regarding our future which ultimately have brought us closer together. We've cried a lot, we've argued a bit, but mostly we are excited for what's to come. And that's a really good feeling.
Part of this reflection of self is also stemming from my Grandpa. He's my last grandparent and while we are not close, it is still hard to say goodbye. I will most likely go up this weekend to Spokane and see him one last time. I know it's been difficult for our family because it is bringing back so many memories of taking care of Mom in her last weeks. He's not eating or really drinking - he just takes his pain pills and goes back to bed. I have been having a hard time figuring out how much time he has left. Dad says weeks, Sharon says maybe 4-6 weeks, maybe even past Christmas. But no matter what, he's still here right now and I need to go see him. I do have great memories of him from my childhood. Like how he was always the cool Grandpa with the latest video games and cool gadgets. He and Grandma would let me stay up late with them and drink diet pepsi, eat cheez-its, and watch Johnny Carson. I'd get to eat those lovely sugary cereals during my visits to their house with the orange shagg carpet and mirrored hallways. I'm really going to miss him, and I also want him to be at peace. I hope Grandma is ready for him. He's a pistol.