Turns out, home school was the best thing that could've happened to me at that moment. It took me several weeks to fully realize that God had fulfilled His promise to get me into a schooling environment that actually fit me very well. But, it was pretty obvious to my mom right away. The teacher who was assigned to me, a guy who introduced himself to me by his first name, Eric, which was pretty unusual considering he was my teacher, also had health problems of his own that mirrored mine in a lot of ways. Sure, our disabilities were different and had different causes, but Eric understood, at least partly, what CF put me through.

In the past, none of my teachers understood what I was going through. They just thought I was being lazy and/or stupid, and treated me as such. Knowing my home school teacher would not make wild assumptions about me based on what my condition caused, was already enough to relieve a lot of my anxiety about school, making it possible for me to take on school without too much holding me back.

In fact, I was so relaxed that I no longer dreaded school. I actually enjoyed it, and looked forward to it. Not only did Eric teach me the way that I learned, but I didn't have to worry about keeping up with my peers, or worry about getting sick and exhausted from spending 7 hours in a crowded building, 5 days a week. Instead, all I really had to do, was wake up a little later in the morning, about 8:30 or so, walk a mile to the library, which was located in a beautiful park, spend an hour meeting one-on-one with Eric, and walk the mile back home.

However, if the weather was bad or I wasn't feeling too well on a particular day, my mom told me to use Uber to get to the library and back. If I was feeling too sick to do that, I could easily Skype into school from home, or wherever I was. That meant, over the summer, I could still go on trips while keeping up in school. Also, when I crashed my dirtbike in North Dakota, and returned home a few days later unable to walk or put pressure on my left shoulder, I was allowed to Skype into school from home until I was healed. 

For a long time, I wondered why I hadn't enrolled in the home school program earlier. If I'd enrolled in it before I ever went to that dilapidated school for 11th grade, or even better, before I even went to a school building with my peers, I would've had a much easier time in school. I wouldn't have nearly as much social anxiety as I do now, because home school would've saved me from my bullies. I wouldn't have a sketchy school record, because in home school, I could've kept right up with my studies, regardless of my health.  I would've likely been healthier in the long run, since I could've avoided many of the lung infections and struggles I had to deal with while in school with other students. Life would've been so much easier if I'd just stayed home. 

But, that's when it hit me. God did not allow me to get sick to spite me. He allowed me to get as sick as I did in 11th grade to save me. In order to get into that home school program, I had to be very sick, which I never really was until that point. At least, I was never sick enough to get enrolled into a home school program. That's why I suffered so terribly in 11th grade. I was only able to graduate high school on time with the best grades I'd ever had, because God lifted His protection and allowed a major infection to ravage my body, just enough so I could attend school online with the help of a tutor. But, God never lifted His protection completely.

Along the way, He did save me from unnecessary suffering. God didn't allow the doctors to hospitalized me, where for at least two weeks, I would've been quarantined and pumped full of mostly useless antibiotics that would've only made Pseudomonas harder to get rid of. He didn't allow the Grim Reaper to drag my soul out of my body either, even when I was close to death at times. He only allowed me to get sick enough so I could qualify for the home school program, where I stayed for the rest of high school. 

Of course, even in home school, I did suffer quite a bit. I was still pretty sick when I first started meeting my teacher at the library. I wasn't infected with anything anymore, and most of the aftermath from the Pseudomonas infection was cleared out of my airways. But, I was still severely underweight and weak. Over time, walking two miles everyday, five days a week, and my constant appetite, made it possible for me to gain back my weight and strength Pseudomonas stole from me, in almost record time.

In the early hours of Memorial Day, I woke up at exactly 5:00 AM in an inexplicable panic. It was like I'd just woken up from a night terror, only I did not remember what I'd dreamed about. I was drenched in sweat, my muscles were tense, and I was wheezing. I eventually caught my breath again and calmed down. Since nothing seemed wrong, I managed to fall back asleep. But, when I woke up again several hours later, I felt like shit. As a result, I was very mean and irritable, even though I didn't know why. Nothing was wrong with me. In fact, life was pretty damn good. 

But, around noon, my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. It was my dad. My heart skipped a few beats because my dad never called me just out of the blue like that, unless something was seriously wrong. Shakily, I answered the phone, and it was clear by the hesitation and the raspy sound of my dad's voice, he had been sobbing. In fact, he still was. I sobbed too when he informed me that at about 6:00 in the morning, Minnesota time, my grandpa Bob passed away. He apparently was having a heart attack, but held on long enough for family, friends, and EMTs to arrive. The EMTs worked on him for a good hour or so before letting him go, and I woke up panicked out of my mind at the exact same time my grandpa passed away. That really, really messed with me, and still continues to baffle me to this day. 

I ended up bringing that up the first night I stayed with family for my grandpa's funeral. I was gonna stay at the old farmhouse alone, which I really wasn't looking forward to given the circumstances, and because the house just had a strange vibe overall, so I stayed up late with my aunts and uncles recounting our lives prior to and after grandpa died. I wasn't the only one who experienced something very strange before my grandpa passed away. My uncle Wes, and his wife, Jess, were camping in the blufflands with their sons. The whole time they were there, they didn't have any cell service.

At least, not until the early hours of Memorial Day came around, when Wes and Jess woke up to Wes's phone ringing. That should've been impossible, but at the time, neither Wes or Jess really thought anything of it. My aunt Stacy was calling to let Wes and Jess know that grandpa was having trouble breathing and was complaining of chest pain, and the EMTs were headed over in a helicopter. This was pretty routine, since my grandpa had been disabled and ill for most of his life, especially during his later years, and my uncle Wes would've stayed at camp had he not felt a tremendous urge to visit the farm. So, Wes got up and headed to the farm, just in time to see his brother, my uncle Wade, arriving at the farm after receiving a similar call from Stacy.

About an hour later, after the EMTs did everything in their power to resuscitate my grandpa, they stepped back and allowed everyone to say their final goodbyes, explaining there was nothing else they could do. My grandpa was gone. As sad and sudden as his death was, everyone in my family had a sense of relief. My grandpa was no longer suffering from any number of his debilitating diseases or disabilities. And, he had passed away exactly as he intended to. He had lived on that farm from the time he was a toddler, and had planned on passing away on that farm, surrounded by friends and family. His wishes were fulfilled. 

After staying up late into the night with my aunts and uncles, my aunt Stacy took me to the farm where grandma Shirley was waiting for me. Grandma could tell I was on edge, and tried to make everything as comfortable for me as possible. I appreciated her efforts, but I had basically no sleep that night. As soon as my grandma went to bed, leaving me alone in the dimly lit farmhouse, I had this awful sinking feeling as if I was being watched. I did my best to ignore it, telling myself I was just freaked out and upset by the whole ordeal, and that in reality, I was safe and secure. But, the feeling only increased as the night went on, no matter what I told myself or what I did to distract myself. I had the TV on, a fan running, and was playing video games on my laptop with the living room and dining room lights on. But, I was still absolutely petrified, like I knew there was a mountain cougar hiding around a dark corner, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. 

When the clock struck about three AM, I decided that I needed to head to bed. Reluctantly, I shut everything down, except for the fan and a small nightlight my grandma had plugged into the wall in the dining room. I tried to tell myself as I laid down on the couch to sleep, that any noise or movement I might pick up on was easily explainable by the age of the house, or the fact that I was sleep deprived. I was able to brush off most of the things I experienced that night as something just associated with the old house and my imagination. Occasionally, the house settled and pipes rattled, which I was used to. Outside, I could hear coyotes howling in the distance from time to time through the open window, and heard some movement outside, which I could chalk up to wildlife or the wind. A couple of moths congregated around the nightlight, casting shadows around the rest of the house. None of those things bothered me, but I was still on high alert, because I just felt like something else was nearby.

I managed to fall asleep, but then I woke up again, needing to pee. By then, I'd fully relaxed and the anxiety was long gone. That was, until I swung my legs over the side of the couch and had this instinctual urge to snap my neck in the direction of the kitchen doorway, which was across the dining room to the right of me. I couldn't see it while I was laying down on the couch, because there was a wall in my way. But, as soon as I was sitting on the couch, I could just barely see part of the doorway leading into the kitchen. I saw what seemed to be the silhouette of a large man dart past the doorway in the moonlight. It moved too quickly to actually be a person. It was just a blur. But, it was enough to convince me that I really didn't need to pee all that badly, and neither did I need to sleep. Even though I tried to tell myself it was just a hallucination, I didn't really believe it was. It didn't look anything like anything I'd ever seen or hallucinated before. So, I just parked it right back on the couch and refused to open my eyes or move until dawn. 

I didn't tell anyone about what I'd experienced the night before until my aunt Stacy arrived. She arrived while grandma Shirley was getting ready and I was seated at the table eating breakfast and wearing earbuds, completely oblivious to the world around me. I nearly fell out of my chair when my aunt shook my shoulders from behind me. I whipped around and ripped out my earbuds, and my aunt Stacy had an interesting expression on her face.

"I swear, I just heard grandpa." she said.

"Um, what?" I responded, not quite sure I'd heard her right.

"Right when I opened up the front door, I heard grandpa's voice shouting at me from the living room." she explained further, without breaking eye contact with me, "I think he was shouting hello!" 

I stared back at her, not sure of what to think or say. Obviously, I hadn't heard a damn thing with my earbuds in, so I couldn't back up or deny what my aunt claimed. But, I couldn't escape the conviction in her eyes. She clearly heard something, even though it was silent except for a few birds chirping in the oaks outside. The TV and radio were both off, the AC unit wasn't running in the living room, and neither were any fans. No water was running. Grandma had finished taking a shower an hour or so before my aunt arrived, and was busy getting pictures ready for the wake, so the usual rattly pipes were quiet. But besides the silence, my grandpa's voice was incredibly distinct, and he would usually call out a hearty "hello!" or something else like that whenever someone walked through the front door.

What my aunt told me seemed to line up pretty well with the past, and the conviction in her eyes was undeniable. Obviously, we both knew grandpa had passed away, but my aunt told me that just because he passed away, didn't mean he was gone yet. I had conflicted feelings about that, but was glad that my aunt opened the door for a discussion about what I experienced the night before. 

When I recounted the shadowy blur I saw the night before, as well as the dreadful feeling of being stared at, she was convinced it was grandpa watching over me, and told me I should've been much less afraid and more comforted by his presence. But, that didn't sound quite right to me. If it really was my grandpa paying me a visit, why did I feel so much fear? Shouldn't I have felt a feeling of relief or comfort if it was actually grandpa, instead of so much fear that I refused to answer nature's call? I knew if I'd seen that blurry figure one more time, I would've made my great escape through the nearest open window and called my uncle Wes to come rescue me. In fact, I am certain if I had my driver's license and a set of keys that night, I would've ditched the house within the first several minutes of picking up on that awful feeling of being stared at, hours before I saw that very strange thing in the kitchen.

I didn't reiterate how scared I was to my aunt. She seemed to fully believe it was my grandpa paying me a visit, and since the figure wasn't short or slow moving at all, my aunt took that as a sign that my grandpa was fully healed. I wasn't in the right state of mind to argue or really think about it further, so I just relaxed knowing that I wouldn't be spending the next nights alone after that experience. My cousin Taylor, and her fiance Charles, would be staying with me after the Wake.