Sleep is impossible for me to get tonight. I am wide awake, absolutely scared shitless of the journey to Minnesota tomorrow, and of what I might be walking into when I step through the squeaky kitchen door of that 120+ year old farmhouse I've known my entire life. Thankfully, my aunt and dad have opened up considerably this week, giving me as many details as I asked for. Consequently, I now feel much more prepared and less anxious. If anything, I am champing at the bit. I want to be there right now!
On my drive to class, I called my dad to figure out last-minute packing and traveling details, as well as find out what the latest updates on the family were. He still spoke in relatively vague terms, as usual. But, when I pried him for details, he finally relayed them to me. For privacy reasons, I will not reveal most of the information I gathered from him. However, I knew to prepare to spend several long winter nights in the farmhouse, but not alone. Besides my dad, uncle, and grandma, we'll be accompanied by 24/7 hospice nurses, as well as a family friend who recently quit their job as an ICU nurse for a simpler life on her farm with her husband. Of course, my grandma's best friends will also be over frequently to fawn over her and help her with her needs.
I'll also be surrounded by all of my cousins, my cousins' friends and significant others, and so many more people. From the sounds of it, the whole county now knows of my grandma's exponentially worsening condition, and just like when my grandpa passed away, everyone from basically everywhere has overwhelmed us with love and support.
My aunt regaled me with stories of love and compassion from all of the little towns in the area, as well as from the Mayo clinic in Rochester (and also the city of Rochester). The farmhouse has never been cleaner, and my family and their friends have already started to renovate the place, starting with the simple and hidden stuff. They've dealt with the rot and mold, the stains that have seeped into the carpets and wallpaper, the chewed-on wiring that's probably as old as the house, and have doubled the size of the junk pile in the pasture with old, rotting crap that was sitting in the house for decades. When grandma passes away, the big renovations should begin, giving new life to that ancient farmhouse that's belonged to my family since they arrived in the States in the early 1900's.
But, in the meantime, it sounds like my grandma is still in decent condition considering what she's going through. While she now requires round-the-clock care and is not nearly as mobile as she was when I last saw her, she is still the same old grandma I've grown up with and loved. And, she can't wait to see me. Apparently, she won't shut up about how I (her favorite grand-daughter) am gonna visit her even if I freeze to death in the process.
I've made sure to pack my luggage with as much of my art as I could fit into it, so my grandma can have one last gift from me (or in this case, multiple gifts). I've also brought as much art supplies as I could reasonably pack, so I can work on some art with and around my grandma (and the rest of my family, of course). To make the trip as easy and fast as possible, I won't be checking any luggage. Everything I take will come with me onto the plane, so I don't have to worry about waiting an hour or more for my shit to arrive on the carousel after we land. Hopefully, TSA won't frisk me like they usually do, as I no longer need to take fifty-something pounds worth of scary medical equipment with me anymore.
If I'm looking forward to anything regarding this trip, it will be showing off to my paternal relatives how much stronger and healthier I've become since they last saw me in-person, as well as tell them about how much I've grown and succeeded since the summer of 2019. After all, since last we hung out, I've mostly conquered my fear of driving and have gotten my license and my own vehicle. I've transformed from a frail, sickly, shaky little creature with a constant cough and wheeze, to a beast in comparison who can hike for miles and miles up and down steep, treacherous terrain without running out of breath. I don't want them to worry about me anymore. I especially want my grandma to pass away knowing I will be alright. If God allows her, I want to believe she'll be watching me live my life. Instead of watching me suffer and die in my 30's, I want her to see me live to be as old and strong as her.
Whether or not they've admitted it, I've always been able to tell how genuinely concerned about my health my paternal relatives have been. They don't show their emotions, or even talk about their worries and fears, which has helped me really tune-in my "sixth sense" over the years. I have caught glimpses and whispers of their worries about me, which has always worried me, too. The only other person they seemed to worry so much about was my grandpa Bob, and he was paralyzed, in a wheelchair, suffering from multiple heart, blood, and lung conditions till he passed away at 76 from his (I think fourth) heart attack. Was I really in such bad condition that my paternal family worried about me almost as much as they worried about my grandpa? If so, I hope their jaws will drop to through floor when I arrive at the farm this time around, as lively and healthy as I've become.
After all, I don't want my paternal relatives to worry about me anymore, especially after all the strife and tragedy they've... well, we've been through, especially in the past several years or so. As sad as I will be, I at least want to quell their concern for me; to show them that they need not be so protective of me, or wake up in the middle of the night wondering if I'm still alive. And, I especially want my grandma to be at the utmost peace, which I hope I can help deliver to her by being around her, and showing and telling her all I've been through over the last couple of years. She deserves to know that I am healthy, alive, and am getting on with life just fine. I cannot, and will not hide that miraculous fact from her.
