A Little Perspective

Oh Tuesday, tuesday. You feel kind of like Friday. I think today marks the end of this crazy, topsy turvy week we've had over here.

On Saturday I was close to throwing myself a pity party, as I lay wide awake on a hotel bed at 6am clinging to my cell phone hoping to hear back from my husband about how baby H was doing.

But now it's Tuesday. I was treated to a dose of perspective and it didn't taste good. But it did put my head back on straight and the pity party is no more.

Yes, H was supposed to be the ring bearer at Kellie's lovely wedding. But it didn't happen.
Jon was supposed to drive over Friday, but he didn't get to see the wedding.
We were supposed to board the 11:30a plane to LAX Sunday, but that didn't happen either.

Sickness overtook poor H Friday morning. He was babied through the night by Jon and a steamy bathroom, but by Saturday morning he was struggling to breath and had a high temp. It was time to bring him in to the ER. He was diagnosed with an acute case of croup, given emergency treatment then steroids. The very worst part of all this was when I called Jon and heard his wheezing cry in the background. My skin wanted to peel off.

Getting the all clear, and calm yourself call from Jon saved the day for me. It allowed me to be more than just physically present at Kel's wedding. I got online, cancelled the trip and snapped back to the moment of a gorgeous, ann arbor day of celebration.

I would have been thankful had sickness been the only thing that happened to dampen this joyful event. But it wasn't, and our hearts break for it. We lost our dear Tia Raquel Friday morning. She was my great-aunt, my Abuelita's sister. Somehow saying her title, great-aunt, doesn't convey how much she was like another grandmother to my me and my sisters.

I have a million memories of her and her house in Alma, M. I loved her fridge and the many colorful magnets she'd have on it. I would sort and organize the magnetic fruit from the little hot dogs and the musical ones. I loved her voice and her accent. I love that she knew Harrison and Jon. I love that I have her name as my middle name. I love how she looked like my Abuelita.

One great regret I have is not being there for my Abuelita's funeral. She passed away in early spring 2005 while I was far away in Finland. It didn't allow me to grieve amongst family and even now, 6 years later it feels like an unfinished chapter. And I don't know how to close it.

So this morning, I left the little boy with his dad and drove that familiar road up north, past the bottomless lake, ambling through the city of Amble, driving past the country club that we so often ate at, going across those railroad tracks and into the yellow-shag carpeted Catholic church that is fixated in memory. And I got to say goodbye.