Let us give Thanks and Praise.

I went to bed last night on the Eve of my forty first Thanksgiving, in my Boston sweatshirt and shamrock pajama bottoms with black make up trails running south on my face. My eyes were sore from crying, I didn't brush my teeth, wash my face, hang up the poncho which draped the end of the bed. I crawled in, curled into a tight ball and cried myself to sleep.
My Nana has a blockage in her kidney, a severe infection and will be in surgery sometime this morning. Her blood was too thin yesterday, so they pumped her with frozen plasma (?) last night to thicken her blood - good for the surgical purpose, but bad for a woman who has arterial issues and has suffered strokes.
The surgery is a must, and a risk.
There is the possibility she will die, a good possibility.
Crazy thing is,
I have been writing about my Nan like a madwoman lately. My Grandparents, my childhood, 43 Willoughby Street - I have tried to make snap shots of my past with my words.
I said to Kevin just Tuesday night "I would like you to learn amazing grace, so we can sing it at Nana's funeral" - Out of no where - I thought that, said it....
I have been thinking about her a lot lately, find myself frozen, hands in the soapy water on a dirty dish, staring at her violet on the window pane wishing it would sprout new purple blooms.
I have always been eerily in tune with the peripheral of my life - I usually FEEL something long before it becomes a reality.
It is a curse and a blessing all in one gulp.
I will be very surprised if she lives through this surgery and recovery process.
I think her time has come.
When my sister called me and said surgery is delayed til tomorrow, I said "I cannot think of a more perfect day for her to die"
Crazy right - nope not really.
She loved Thanksgiving, loved every holiday, loved a good theme and a reason to decorate.
Thanksgiving was always my favorite Holiday with her, we cooked in the kitchen, she taught me to make gravy and I now am the meanest gravy maker around.
I stood by the stove with the wire whisk relentlessly making circles, keeping the juices moving in the big heavy black cast iron pan.
She would taste in from time to time, dipping a teaspoon in and bringing it to her mouth to blow on it before slurping it up (like a lady mind you, daintily)
I would ask, "done yet Nana, is it good?"
And she would say, "keep stirring tweetie."
I said to Ash, "It would be the perfect day for her to die, I can't think of a person more grateful, more thankful, more giving"
I NEVER want her to die.
I NEVER want to live in a world without her.
I NEVER want to say goodbye.
But, she has suffered more than any Nana should. She has lived for years now paralyzed, with pureed food, lost dignity, in a nursing home and for the last year without my Papa, the love of her life, her very best friend.
I am hoping that her suffering ends today and that I get to be grateful, thankful, relived that she is at peace and home with God, Papa, and all the loved ones she has outlived.
I am so sad that I can barely take it.
My eyes are oily feeling, the tears are just there, constant pools.
Yesterday, as I went to work, I was thinking about what my friend and co-worker said to me the other day "your life is always full of drama"
It is, no doubt.
Although that could be perceived negatively, as I walked into the brutal wind as I made my way down the mall, I thought, yes, yes, yes it is.
I have a FULL FULL FULL life, full of people and hurdles and possibility and happiness and sadness and DRAMA.
I would have it no other way. A full life means a constant process of emptying and re-filling.
I am thankful that I have a full life, even with the endless pitfalls, even when the emptying seems prevalent and the fullness feels hard to find.
It is always full - no matter what, because, simply,
it is.
I was hoping that I would sleep in this Thanksgiving morning, that I would relax the day before my retail hell reality begins,
Thanksgiving Thursday the prelude to BLACK FRIGGEN FRIDAY -
But alas,
not in my cards.
At 5 something this morning I got sick of rolling over and looking at my phone for text messages from home.
I said screw it and just got up and made myself a thick dark pot of mud.
I cried last night to my little sister "There just aren't enough words, I couldn't say them enough times, not enough poetry, not enough essays, not enough of anything to tell her how much I love her and how grateful I am that she loved me - the impact she made on my fragile life."
I had the perfect goodbye with her years ago. We sat staring into each others eyes, we said ALL the things we should have. She cried, I cried, it was beautiful and peaceful and I know that she knows.
I just wish I could be suspended with her in a bubble of infinite time and say "I love you" on loop.
I cannot think of a more perfect calendar day for her to pass.
I am hopeful that peace is hers today...
I will say it again - Middle age sucks ass.
This shit is HARD in ways I never imagined.
sigh - who knew?
I hope that you all have a blessed THANKSGIVING. I hope that no matter where you are, who you are with, who you are without -
that your day feels full just because you got to greet it.
And with that, I need to stop.
I don't know why, but suddenly I have to just be quiet.
God Bless.