On the other side of the worst possible thing that has ever happened to me and my family. On Saturday, we buried my wonderful Nana. I can barely say or write her name without feeling choked up. I spent most of the drive home Sunday randomly crying and speeding, things that do not go together. Don’t worry I made it home in one piece, physically. Mentally is another story. Every little thing sets me off. A comment from my father, feels like judgement and yelling. Thinking I lost the claddagh ring she left behind. Having a nosebleed. Are now all tearful experiences.

I keep thinking about my Pop Pop. My grandparents would have been married 60 years this November, but they’d known each other since they were in grade school. He lost the true love of his life. Their love story is perfection to me. Bumpy, but filled with greatness. An example to live by. And now he’s all alone in that big house, one she stayed in even when it meant being basically trapped on the first floor due to her lack of mobility. It’s just so sad. I don’t know how he’s going to go on. Even if we could financially bring him to live with us, I don’t think he would agree to it. That’s the house he was born in, the last place he lived with her, I don’t think he’s leaving it.

To top it off, my Pop Pop’s closest friend (Mr. M.) had a seizure during the service which caused everything to halt. Later we found out that the seizure was a result of an aneurysm, and Mr. M passed early Sunday morning. Trying to put a positive spin on things, our family joked that my Nana who was a nurse made it possible for Mr. M to be in a church surrounded by people who could help him instead of alone in his house when the aneurysm burst. So, not only did my grandfather lose his beloved wife, but also his best friend in less than a week’s time. Mr. M. could have been a great help to my Pop Pop, he lost his wife a few years ago. It’s not fair, but what in life is?

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get the images of my Pop Pop, mother, sister, uncle, aunt, and little cousins crying in that church as we walked out behind the casket. The little ones are the worst. My cousin (M) started crying as soon as they wheeled the casket from the back of the church to the front for the start of the service. (He’s really hurting. The poor kid changed the password on his iPod to Nana for goodness sakes.) My sister, who played this whole situation very cool, lost it during the service. And by the end my youngest cousin (R) was crying as my sister carried her out of the church. It was awful. Just awful. It’s not fair. My sister and I had her for the longest, I only hope that they have a solid memory of her. Our Nana was the greatest, I hope we all do a good job of helping them remember that.

If this whole thing has done anything for our family, it’s brought us even closer together. Bringing old friends to a house left silent by the absence of my grandmother. A house where holidays used to mean high school buddies and beer, once again had life this weekend. To celebrate one of the greatest people I’ll ever know. My little cousin R is right, Nana is an angel now. Because she always was one.

“One Sweet Day” – Mariah Carey & Boyz II Men

It’s kind of weird because my dad left to go, and on his way there he called my aunt and uncle who told him my grandmother had flatlined. So, he called my sister and I to tell us our grandmother had passed away. Turns out, by the time he finally made it to the hospital, she had some how “come back”. Between the time we received the phone call and the time we found out the news was false about an hour passed. In our haste to celebrate our grandmother’s life, my sister and I alerted the world through what else… Facebook. Then, a text from our dad told us that no, she’s still breathing. So we immediately deleted the posts and waited.

This morning my dad called again, apologized and told me that this time it was for real. I talked to my mom, she sounded surprisingly okay and she asked me to look through pictures for the obituary. I’m trying my hardest, but all of my pictures of Nana look the same. I loved capturing her when she didn’t know. As she looked across a room at my little cousins or gazed taking in the entire family before her. They don’t work for this situation. So I feel like I’m failing a little bit.

I then had to call my sister and tell her that this time it was for real. This is all very strange to me. There aren’t appropriate words for any of it. I’m crying, but there really isn’t anything to cry about. It happened while she was sleeping, I think. It’s what we all know she wanted after years of suffering in a body that just gave up. But it still doesn’t make the fact that she’s gone any less difficult. I hate when I can’t understand things. I don’t “get” death and I don’t “get” why I’m crying because I’m totally okay with it. If I have a life anything like Nana’s I’ll be the second greatest woman to live. She had a great run. I learned so much. I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.

Here are some of my favorite pictures…

Nana & Nana with the all grandkids…about a month after my youngest cousin was born celebrating Nana’s birthday, I think. (2006)

Easter Egg Dye (2010). We have this great book that she wrote for us. It says that she always wanted to bring cheer…she did.

Nothing like a Nana hug and special whisper. (Christmas 2009)

She had the greatest and funniest stories. Nana and my mom (August 2011). The last picture I took.

Nana

8/1/1929 – 1/10/2012

I just feel the need to write this down, to get it all out.

You see this is the first person who matters to me that is going to be passing away. I mean there have been countless elderly aunts and uncles over the years, but strangely because I didn’t see them often it didn’t mean much. It’s almost like they just drifted off and I forgot. Is that terrible? I’ve never even been to a funeral, just one memorial service last February for my best friend’s grandmother. I lost my dog in September, although it happened suddenly, it was my choice and he was suffering. Even though I know it was the right choice, I spend a good amount of time thinking I made the wrong decision. But this is a person I’ve known my whole life. I have no control. I know she has been suffering for so long. Her body is giving out, that’s what happens. We have had so many extra years and memories with her that were a gift. But I just keep thinking so many things.

I didn’t go to visit her at the hospital on Christmas, because I was tired, a bit angry, and I’d seen her in a slightly better state over Thanksgiving. I’d like to think she understands. No, I know she does because for all our differences she got me and all my quirks.
I sent the present I make specially for her every year, a calendar filled with pictures I’ve taken over the previous year. She’s not even going to make it though the first month, a yellow rose probably my best one chosen for just that reason (secretly).

I’m thinking about my mom. I hope she knows how much I love her. Her mom is her best friend. I’m extremely close to my mom, but not the way my mom is with her parents. I hope if anything this brings us closer together, because so far it’s just ripped us apart. As much as I would have loved to have spent the time with my mom in the car on weekends like we used to do, it wasn’t possible this time around for so many reasons. But I’m so glad my mom had all those weekends to sit in a room with my Nana as she told her stories of her stories of her past, my mom has that. What I wouldn’t give for a few more stories. God only knows what my mom wouldn’t give for a few more.

I’m thinking about my Pop Pop. He’s been living in their house alone since August, both of them hoping that she would one day come back. That’s not going to happen. He’s already so sad a shell of who he used to be, but that hope being gone, will break him. They’ve known each other since they were little kids. My Nana yelled at him for stealing her doormat to play in the street (a story I’ve heard so many times). They are my ideal. That house is the only other house I’m completely comfortable in. He’s lived in that house all his life. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She should outlive him, it just would be better that way. What happens now? Does he move in with us? My uncle? Away from his siblings. His doctors. Does my mom keep spending long weekends there? Ultimately, what happens when it’s all over, and that house and that town aren’t the places we go in the summer, for holidays, for random weekends.

This is a transition I’ve never faced.

So I wait and there aren’t words for it.

Just a lot of tears I didn’t expect to fall.

My dad is leaving for the 3 hour drive.

I have to stay here and wait for my sister.

She doesn’t know.

I don’t know what to do.

I just want my mom.

My mom just wants her mom.

I’ll just hold on, close my eyes, and wait.

Because that’s what you do when you’re scared.

Is it over, yet?

“I Will Follow You Into The Dark” – Death Cab For Cutie

When I first read that I thought to myself, “I don’t think I’ve ever had street food other than a hot or soft pretzel.” Then I remembered a trip to NYC 2 summers ago. I had a great gyro platter at a street fair right outside my friend’s apartment. Probably one of the better memories of that trip. So I guess, middle eastern/kabob etc, is my favorite type of street food. It’s kind of funny because I’m a super picky eater, but I love the idea of street food, pop up restaurants, food trucks. It’s all so new and hip, kind of like the cupcake craze only better. Living near a big city means that this type of food is readily available, I should take advantage of it.

The more I think about it, this prompt ties into one of my current obsessions, how perfect. I was introduced to the concept of food trucks etc on an episode of Oprah (weekdays at 4PM still aren’t the same), but I came to really fall in love with it after watching Ludo Bites America. The show is amazing, and also quite funny because the dynamic between Chef Ludo and his wife, Krissy (she replied to me twice on Twitter!) is great. He’s a wild French man and she is his cool, calm, and collected American wife who deals with the front of the house as they call it in the business.  I’m sure I’ll be over this in a few months, or maybe not.

Also, I’m cooking for the family. The first dish: Chicken Parmigiana was a total success. Tonight: Pulled Pork. Just call me Chef Jillian.

City Love – John Mayer

• Cook. Not only will this be a great way to contribute to the family it will also help me with the goal of trying new food!
• Save money. I want to get into couponing. It just seems like the most ridiculous, yet fun thing EVER.
• Take advantage of the city. People come on vacation to DC, and it’s literally been a short trip from my house my entire life. I had a few projects this semester that required going to some of the museums downtown, and I just kept thinking “why don’t I do this more?!”
• Be my own advocate. If there is something I want to do, I can make it happen.
• Volunteer. It feels great to help other people, usually I stick to people I know but strangers need it just as much, if not more.
• Be creative. How can I be an art major who only makes the “art” required for class? This also includes writing here.
• Say Yes. Whether it’s saying yes to things I want to stand by, yes to an invitation, yes to a new experience. It sounds better than my favorite word: NO.
• Be a better friend. I’m famous for disappearing from people’s lives. I just figure they are too busy, and I’m generally content on my own. If I want to spend time with someone, I should just ask. The worst that can happen is they turn me down.
• Take breaks. Alone time is crucial.
• Be weird. I don’t need to button up my personality.
• Speak my mind. Because those who matter don’t mind, and those that mind don’t matter (Dr. Seuss)

Let’s see how this goes.

Uncharted - Sara Bareilles

The first is our Christmas Eve tradition. It once involved opening a single present and stockings after dinner on Christmas Eve, then staying up late and going to midnight mass at church. Over the years, church dropped out of the equation. But the special preview present stayed. I can’t remember when this stopped happening. Last year, I think we did all of our presents on Christmas Eve and then my mom made the trek to Pennsylvania to cook Christmas dinner with my nana. This year, my grandmother has been in and out of a nursing home and the hospital. So my mom was gone days before Christmas Eve, and my sister and I were driving to Pennsylvania on the 24^th. My dad decided to spend the holiday with his family. We didn’t open any presents until the following Tuesday. Who knows where we will be next year. It’s funny. It’s such a simple thing, a single present. It probably takes 20 minutes, said and done, but it has always meant a lot.

The second is family dinner. I have several friends who find it odd that sitting around a table for dinner is the standard in our house. I even have one friend whose mom put two sitting chairs where their kitchen table used to be! Are these family dinners always pleasant? No. I’ve often used the “I’m not sitting at this table” as my defiant move of choice. Lately with my mom out of town on weekends, class, my sister working; family dinners are rare. I’m going to try really hard this semester to help my mom out with grocery shopping and some cooking. Maybe I’ll save the family dinner.

It’s weird to be conscious of how things are changing. It’s not something people tell you happens when you grow up. I’m not saying I want these things to always be the same, it’s just a little bit funny to notice evolution. To long for the days gone by, but be willing to accept the change because it is what it is. There’s no way to go back, only moving forward. Making new normals, new traditions.

“Something’s Missing” – John Mayer

I took a creative leap and it worked out. Lost the longest friendship of my life, in the most ridiculously drawn out way. But I gained allies and friends I never could have imagined. Got into a “real” college, back out on a deposit. Got a partial scholarship to a different school, and many months later the full ride. I’ve always had that second choice luck, and I’m thankful. Graduated from community college. Worried about my grandmother. Went on a disaster date. Listened to tons and tons of Adele, even though it wasn’t necessary. Spent tons of time in the sun with friends. Switched to Maroon 5 music. Contemplated, but what else is new? Started a new university. Met new people, some I love some I can’t stand. Worried about my mother. Put a disease I used to hide in the middle of my art work. Finished a semester with a GPA I can be proud of, even if it’s not my best. Relaxed. Ready to begin a new year…

When I take that all in. I’m impressed. Contrary to the self absorbed nature of blogging, in real life I HATE talking about myself. Even if I’m confident in a talent, my knowledge, my character, I wouldn’t say so. But this place is all mine, even if others get to read it. So I’ll say it. I’m proud. I couldn’t have foreseen the things I faced, but I handled them. I made it through, with my head high. I struggled, but I survived. I had great highs for every low. It was a good year and I’m hoping for another. So here’s to that!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

*Firework - Katy Perry

The fall semester is over for all intents and purposes. I just have 3 final exams over the next week. I can’t believe I made it. There were points where I hit lows I didn’t feel I could recover from. So much changed from my community college life to the 4 year school I’m currently attending. It’s been difficult. I miss the closeness, the “community” of it all. One thing I’ve discovered this semester is a certain skill with 3-D art… I thought my final piece in particular would be of interest to the DOC.

It’s a body extension sculpture. Basically, I created a hood from insulin pump tubing, insulin bottles, and cartridges. The hood restricted the movement of my arms and required some balance to keep steady; restriction of diabetes. The supplies surround my head as a symbol for the way diabetes is always on my mind and impacts my decision making. I even left one tube hanging and connected it to my pump site during the presentation. It was a great success. A lot of the feedback included how delicate I was able to make the materials seem and the contrast between that and the harshness of the medical condition. One of my classmates even said something to the effect of “it’s so pretty, but it kind of freaks me out”. Mission accomplished.

I’ll be back over break. I’m hopping back into this blogging game. Happy Holidays!

Brand New Day – Joshua Radin

I’m adjusting well to Scholarship University. It’s a lot of change, but I’m handling it. Crazy professors, new friends, and reconnecting with old friends. So far, so good.

On Monday I turned 20. It’s kind of a weird age. Not that I care about 21 being on the horizon, but 21 feels more special and 19 was a good year. I feel older with this one though. I can see the difference between myself and freshman who I call classmates. It’s odd. I hate birthdays though. I haven’t had a good one in so long. I can think of only bad memories from the past few I’ve had; friends not showing up, mice in a movie theater, and this time deciding that my dog needed to be put down.

How do you decide something like that?

It honestly happened over my birthday dinner. For about a month my five year old dog Finn had been experiencing severe pain from an unknown neck/back injury. We tried steroids, limiting his mobility, consulted a neurologist. The options were continuing the medication, which really was not working, or an extremely expensive surgery that may or may not have worked. In the end, we knew that it was best to let him go. To see an animal so helpless, he literally would scream and scream as he paced around from discomfort, was more than we could handle. I miss him so much.
I got Finn when I dropped out of school because of anxiety and depression. Some days he was the only thing that encouraged me to get out of bed. I had to take care of the puppy if I did nothing else. I needed him just as much as he needed me. He was more mine than my first dog because I was old enough to truly take care of him. There was a running joke that guests loved Finn, but the family loved Massi more. It’s not true. We loved him, so much. He was the sweetest, calmest, most playful dog. He was quiet and fun, to our other dog’s loud and serious personality. He kept Massi young. There is nothing I loved more than hearing the two of them scamper across our hardwood floors, tags jingling. I’m glad we had the pair, because it’s easier to still have one dog. We are not getting another dog anytime soon. I can’t even think of “replacing” him. I think it’s kind of a sign though. I needed him for so long, we depended on each other when he was a puppy. In the end he needed me to help him escape the pain, so I did. I’ve grown so much since I got him and now he’s gone. If that’s not poetic, I don’t know what is.

Today is my 15 year Diaversary. I don’t really have anything to say. It’s been the best and worst 15 years. I’m complication free. I continue to strive for the best management possible, for me. Sometimes I’m scared about my future, but I’m okay today and that means a lot.

Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. I love her so much, there aren’t even enough words. I don’t know if she’s reading this. LOVE YOU MOM!

Something good better happen on Friday to balance out this crazy week.