"We'll meet again... don't know where... don't know when.
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."
That's the tune that played itself on a loop in my head as I stood in my grandparent's living room last night, the weepy middle of a three person hug that was nothing but tears, sadness, and regret. This scene came just after my grandpa made the statement that, "we all made... we all made it for one more Christmas... I don't suspect we'll all be here next year." He didn't have to say any more than that. Grandma and I both knew that he meant himself, not me. He won't last much longer. His health has deteriorated considerably from last year. He isn't ill, per se. There are no complications from the surgeries most of the elderly seem to make a six month routine in my family. But he's slipping. He's slipping quickly, and I don't think he cares. I think he's nearly ready to let go. I don't feel that he'll be with us anymore come summertime...
"Keep smiling through, just like you always do.
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away."
I pulled myself together and made a couple of jokes to lighten the mood. Grandpa grabbed for a Kleenex, then so did Grandma... and so did I. I wedged mine up my nose and left it there as I walked to the door. Turning to look at them one last time this visit before catching an early morning flight today. My Kleenex waving in the breeze as I stepped outside, I blew them both a kiss and waved as I walked around the corner to my parent's home.
"So will you please say "Hello" to the folks that I know.
Tell them I won't be long... they'll be happy to know...
That as you saw me go, I was singing this song."
It's been over a year and a half in Portland for me now. I feel as though I've come into my own in a lot of ways, and have discovered that I'm actually comfortable with the parts of me that I thought were broken and wanted desperately to change.
I am what I am.
I know that now. I don't need this grand experiment anymore. I came, I saw, I got my ass kicked. But I don't mind.
It's time.
I'm going home.
Hopefully, I'll make it back while grandpa is still with us. In order to do that, I have to slam a plan together and set it to motion. Traveling back to Ohio over the mountains and through the wind battered plains won't be easy, but it has to happen... before the end of March. Time to start packing.
"We'll meet again... don't know where... don't know when.
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day........."
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."
That's the tune that played itself on a loop in my head as I stood in my grandparent's living room last night, the weepy middle of a three person hug that was nothing but tears, sadness, and regret. This scene came just after my grandpa made the statement that, "we all made... we all made it for one more Christmas... I don't suspect we'll all be here next year." He didn't have to say any more than that. Grandma and I both knew that he meant himself, not me. He won't last much longer. His health has deteriorated considerably from last year. He isn't ill, per se. There are no complications from the surgeries most of the elderly seem to make a six month routine in my family. But he's slipping. He's slipping quickly, and I don't think he cares. I think he's nearly ready to let go. I don't feel that he'll be with us anymore come summertime...
"Keep smiling through, just like you always do.
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away."
I pulled myself together and made a couple of jokes to lighten the mood. Grandpa grabbed for a Kleenex, then so did Grandma... and so did I. I wedged mine up my nose and left it there as I walked to the door. Turning to look at them one last time this visit before catching an early morning flight today. My Kleenex waving in the breeze as I stepped outside, I blew them both a kiss and waved as I walked around the corner to my parent's home.
"So will you please say "Hello" to the folks that I know.
Tell them I won't be long... they'll be happy to know...
That as you saw me go, I was singing this song."
It's been over a year and a half in Portland for me now. I feel as though I've come into my own in a lot of ways, and have discovered that I'm actually comfortable with the parts of me that I thought were broken and wanted desperately to change.
I am what I am.
I know that now. I don't need this grand experiment anymore. I came, I saw, I got my ass kicked. But I don't mind.
It's time.
I'm going home.
Hopefully, I'll make it back while grandpa is still with us. In order to do that, I have to slam a plan together and set it to motion. Traveling back to Ohio over the mountains and through the wind battered plains won't be easy, but it has to happen... before the end of March. Time to start packing.
"We'll meet again... don't know where... don't know when.
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day........."
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
But aside from that, you know I think the move is the right decision for you, so I'm glad you made it.