Changes Afoot
Spring is a time of rebirth and fresh starts, and things in my life are shifting and blooming along with the trees.
Bruce and I have been going to the gym fairly regularly, and though I haven't seen any results yet, I am having such a good time and feeling fantastic. I never enjoyed working out before, but this time around it is truly fun (having my iPod handy helps a lot, I'll admit). We're also excited about our upcoming trip to New Orleans, just the two of us letting loose and enjoying uninterrupted alone time.
Starting early next month, I will begin to work as a labor & delivery nurse at a local hospital (not where I currently work). This is a dream come true and a very important step in my career. I was a nervous wreck about telling my boss, but that went well and is behind me, thank goodness. I decided to stay on at my current job as flex staff, meaning I will do one shift every two weeks, to keep my foot in the door there and bank some extra cash. This is a very exciting time, but stressful as all major changes tend to be.
Last month we bought a gently used mini van (a Town & Country, Odysseys were just a little pricier than I felt comfortable with)! It is shiny and red, smells new and runs so smoothly I can barely believe it. I had lobbied for a min van because we are hoping to need room for two car seats soon and still have space for Phil, our dog and groceries. It will be great for vacations, and all of the passenger seats stow away which means there is room to haul things like furniture when needed. I have never had a vehicle larger than a 4-door sedan, so this is new and exciting for me! Maybe I'll be thought of as a soccer mom or whatever, but I don't care in the least. I love my van!
My grandmother, Beatrice Rusen, passed away last Sunday after a six-month struggle with her health following the car accident I have previously written about. This is the first time I have felt joy mingled with sorrow at the loss of a loved one. Joy for Grammy because her suffering has ended, but more so because she is at long last reunited with Barbara, her daughter who died at age 12 in an accident, and with my PopPop, who died in December, 2000. It became clear to everyone (except, perhaps, for Grammy) that she was not going to get well again. The auto accident was a catalyst, and one major septic infection followed right after the other from that day on, leaving Grammy weaker each time. Other preexisting conditions continued to ravage her body, and toward the end her loved ones began to pray for a swift and peaceful ending to her suffering.
Knowing her death was imminent, I visited her in the hospital last Saturday night after work. She lay with her eyes closed and her mouth open, looking rather peaceful and childlike (so very unlike her typical feisty self). I said hello, and asked if she could hear me (twice), to which she responded by squeezing her eyes (both times). Feeling somewhat convinced she was conscious and aware, I talked to her for a little while. I got to say everything I needed to, including how much I love her, that I am so sorry I didn't spend nearly enough time with her (especially these past months during her illness), and that I will miss her every day. I reminisced and recounted some of my favorite memories of times we shared, in particular the evenings we hung out in early 2001, which was a painful period in both of our lives. Then I urged her, as my father and aunts had already done, to let go and go on with Pop and Barbara, who I am certain were already there waiting. I stroked her swollen face and kissed her forehead, cried and said goodbye. It was really sad, but also special. Strange to talk to somebody about their impending death, but liberating too.
Dad called at a little after 1:00 AM that night to say she had gone on. Turns out I was the last family member to see her alive, and mine were her last "I love you"s and kisses. Had I known the end would be so soon after my visit, I would have stayed at her side so she wouldn't be alone. Instead, I turned up the volume of her TV and put the speaker near her ear, remembering how she, like me, hated to be alone in a quite house. A nurse or tech was actually with her when she died, so at least she wasn't by herself at that moment. But of course, she wouldn't have been alone anyhow -- her family was there to take her home. I may not be religious, but I am spiritual, and I have no doubt she is with them in the afterlife, whatever that may be.
The funeral was this week, and it went very well. It was great to spend time with my family, look at photos and watch old videos of my grandparents. It has been harder emotionally than I expected, I am exhausted and on edge. Now I have only one grandmother left alive, and she is not in great shape. I have been so fortunate to know all of my grandparents and three of my great-grandparents. I'm just not sure what life will be like now that they are gone. The families feel a bit adrift without our anchors tying us together.
Bruce and I have been going to the gym fairly regularly, and though I haven't seen any results yet, I am having such a good time and feeling fantastic. I never enjoyed working out before, but this time around it is truly fun (having my iPod handy helps a lot, I'll admit). We're also excited about our upcoming trip to New Orleans, just the two of us letting loose and enjoying uninterrupted alone time.
Starting early next month, I will begin to work as a labor & delivery nurse at a local hospital (not where I currently work). This is a dream come true and a very important step in my career. I was a nervous wreck about telling my boss, but that went well and is behind me, thank goodness. I decided to stay on at my current job as flex staff, meaning I will do one shift every two weeks, to keep my foot in the door there and bank some extra cash. This is a very exciting time, but stressful as all major changes tend to be.
Last month we bought a gently used mini van (a Town & Country, Odysseys were just a little pricier than I felt comfortable with)! It is shiny and red, smells new and runs so smoothly I can barely believe it. I had lobbied for a min van because we are hoping to need room for two car seats soon and still have space for Phil, our dog and groceries. It will be great for vacations, and all of the passenger seats stow away which means there is room to haul things like furniture when needed. I have never had a vehicle larger than a 4-door sedan, so this is new and exciting for me! Maybe I'll be thought of as a soccer mom or whatever, but I don't care in the least. I love my van!
My grandmother, Beatrice Rusen, passed away last Sunday after a six-month struggle with her health following the car accident I have previously written about. This is the first time I have felt joy mingled with sorrow at the loss of a loved one. Joy for Grammy because her suffering has ended, but more so because she is at long last reunited with Barbara, her daughter who died at age 12 in an accident, and with my PopPop, who died in December, 2000. It became clear to everyone (except, perhaps, for Grammy) that she was not going to get well again. The auto accident was a catalyst, and one major septic infection followed right after the other from that day on, leaving Grammy weaker each time. Other preexisting conditions continued to ravage her body, and toward the end her loved ones began to pray for a swift and peaceful ending to her suffering.
Knowing her death was imminent, I visited her in the hospital last Saturday night after work. She lay with her eyes closed and her mouth open, looking rather peaceful and childlike (so very unlike her typical feisty self). I said hello, and asked if she could hear me (twice), to which she responded by squeezing her eyes (both times). Feeling somewhat convinced she was conscious and aware, I talked to her for a little while. I got to say everything I needed to, including how much I love her, that I am so sorry I didn't spend nearly enough time with her (especially these past months during her illness), and that I will miss her every day. I reminisced and recounted some of my favorite memories of times we shared, in particular the evenings we hung out in early 2001, which was a painful period in both of our lives. Then I urged her, as my father and aunts had already done, to let go and go on with Pop and Barbara, who I am certain were already there waiting. I stroked her swollen face and kissed her forehead, cried and said goodbye. It was really sad, but also special. Strange to talk to somebody about their impending death, but liberating too.
Dad called at a little after 1:00 AM that night to say she had gone on. Turns out I was the last family member to see her alive, and mine were her last "I love you"s and kisses. Had I known the end would be so soon after my visit, I would have stayed at her side so she wouldn't be alone. Instead, I turned up the volume of her TV and put the speaker near her ear, remembering how she, like me, hated to be alone in a quite house. A nurse or tech was actually with her when she died, so at least she wasn't by herself at that moment. But of course, she wouldn't have been alone anyhow -- her family was there to take her home. I may not be religious, but I am spiritual, and I have no doubt she is with them in the afterlife, whatever that may be.
The funeral was this week, and it went very well. It was great to spend time with my family, look at photos and watch old videos of my grandparents. It has been harder emotionally than I expected, I am exhausted and on edge. Now I have only one grandmother left alive, and she is not in great shape. I have been so fortunate to know all of my grandparents and three of my great-grandparents. I'm just not sure what life will be like now that they are gone. The families feel a bit adrift without our anchors tying us together.
posted by Bridgett | 9:47 AM
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