5 Days

Five days later, and the word I have to capture them is: Overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed. I actually feel pretty ok, but I sort of just want to sit down and let everything fall apart if that's what it's going to do anyway, and since that seems to be what it wants to do, I might just sit back and enjoy the ride! I'm blogging with the hopes of de-overwhelming myself...maybe that would be unwhelming? Well, let's see how it goes!

Firstly, I finished student teaching on Friday. YAY! I was less emotional about it than I was at El Mo, for whatever reasons. Perhaps it was because I was so entirely "over it" or maybe because they weren't my "first class," but I just didn't feel like it was difficult to separate myself from them. It's nice to be done with student teaching, too. All I have left is some paperwork hoops to jump through, then I'm scot-free! I'm in the process of applying with the Long Beach school district to start subbing, so hopefully that will happen SOON. My master teacher and a couple of the other teachers took me out for a couple of celebratory beers, which was nice. But the party ended by the time I got home, with a couple of missed calls from Sue.

Turns out, my grandma died. My grandma Prellwitz, whom I had just written a note to but not yet put into the mail. She was old, but not sick, so it came as a bit of a shock. She apparently had a heart-attack after shoveling the snow off the driveway and was found a day later, still wearing her snow boots. She was in my Grandpa's part of the house, which was odd since she didn't normally go there. He died a little over 2 years ago, and she's been very lonely ever since, so it was good for her to go see him again. But it's hard, because I never get to talk to her again. I'll never see her, never get to laugh at the things she says, which are VERY funny, I can assure you. There was an opportunity to tell funny stories about her at the funeral, but I couldn't because my very favorite story involves the f-bomb and Grandma giving us all the bird. She was truly a treasure-able lady, and treasured by many people. Her funeral was just beautiful, since everyone had such incredible stories to tell about her. There was no doubt or exaggeration when people said she was "awesome," since she truly was. When people said they were going to miss her, I had no doubt whatsoever that they were being completely honest. I will miss her. When the proverbial fan was hit with the proverbial refuse, she was a rock to me. She's actually my step-grandma, but she never ever let me feel like I wasn't a full-blooded granddaughter. I remember staying with her early early on...I think it was the summer of '93. I couldn't sleep and she made me warm milk. I think that's the only time I've ever had warm milk, and I really didn't like it, but I loved that she was taking care of me and loving me. We all had a lovely time with her at Thanksgiving, which is the last time I saw her. I was talking to my roommate earlier today, and she mentioned how Grandma kept saying, "this is my last year." And it was, physically. I treasure my memories of her, and will not let my lessons learned from her life go. She is my inspiration for her vitality and optimism despite her loneliness and age. I only hope that the same things will be said of me at my own funeral.

But before I got to actually go to Nebraska, a few other things happened. I moved into my new apartment on Saturday! I had an incredible support team who came in and dominated moving and arranging and loving, which is without words. I have pics of the new look, but I'll have to upload them later, since I haven't yet transferred them to my computer. It feels great to be in my new place. It's so bright and calming...I just need a few more elements, like my ROOMMATE (and more furniture!) to make it complete.

Saturday night, however, my wallet was stolen. I was at a friend's house and left my purse in the living room, and sure enough, my wallet was taken. At first I figured I had just misplaced it, but when my bank called me early the next morning to check on a few suspicious charges, I knew it was gone. And what a HASSLE. I'm still dealing with the repercussions. I need to go to the DMV to PAY for a replacement license, I'm forced to wait to pay my phone bill until I get a new credit card since they won't take a personal check without a driver's license, I lost at least $250 dollars in unused gift cards, and my beautiful watch that I had stuck in there to avoid losing it in the moving fiasco. I am having difficulty getting a job, since they also want a copy of my driver's license. I haven't been able to just BUY something, since pretty much no one takes personal checks anymore. I've never been truly poor, to where I can't figure out how to pay for something and had to go hungry, so this is the closest to actual poverty I've experienced. My flight to Nebraska were on Monday, and as I had no food in my apartment, I had no food to take with me, and was forced to rely on the airplane peanuts and soft drinks for my sole sustenance. But that was Monday.

Sunday I felt kind of paralysed. My grandma was gone, my wallet was gone, my apartment was still a mess, I had no food, my friends were gone...it was all me. I didn't get much done on Sunday except feel depressed. Of course, I'm not alone, and I have my So Cal family, but I just couldn't DO anything. Plus, I had a flight out of LAX at 6:30 the next morning.

Speaking of Monday and flying, it SUCKED. Drew arrived at my apartment at 4:30 and we drove to LAX, parked my car, checked in and boarded our 6:30 flight to Phoenix successfully. It was in Phx that the real trouble started up. Our 10:00 flight to Omaha was WAAAAAY overbooked, so we got bumped. Rather than take a gamble on the later, also overbooked, flights to Omaha, we opted to go with Plan C, which involved a 2-hour wait for a 37-minute flight to Tucson, then another 2-hour wait for an 1:30-min flight to Denver, then a 5-hour wait for a 1-hour flight to Omaha. We arrived at the Omaha airport (seven degrees celsius) a little after midnight. Our step-cousin was there to pick us up and drive us the 2-hour drive to Lincoln, where I proceeded to fall into a coma, awaking at noon from a tap on my door.

Tuesday was the funeral, which was, as mentioned, just wonderful. The kids (all 9 or so of us) were pall bearers, which was the hardest part of my Grandpa's funeral two years previous and remained so this time around. It was so hard...loading Grandma up into a car that would take her away forever. Even knowing she'd been gone for days didn't help...she was really gone with the slam of that black hearse door. I wanted to break down then, but I knew she was so happy. Plus, I had my comic relief: Drew and Eric. What a treat to spend so much time with those two! I can't imagine how much more like Hell Monday would have been without Drew. It was like we were kids...we goofed off, people-watched, analysed truths, discussed Grandma...in short, we had the best time possible of those wretched 22 hours. And Eric was en fuego...as he usually is when he's not grumpy. So the 5 of us (my dad, Sue, Eric, Drew and I) had a lovely time that evening once all the craziness of guests and whatnot was over. We sat around Grandma's kitchen table and shared beers and stories until it was late and the old "gotta get up in 6 hours" started to kick in. My dad drove Drew and me back to Omaha around 4:30 for our 7:10 flight, which went off without a hitch. We made it back to CA on time, drove my car back to his place, and made banana bread muffins since he had two really old bananas hanging on his banana tree.

Last night was interesting: I'd been so inundated with 24/7 company and family that it felt strange to be alone in my semi-empty apartment. I cooked myself my first real meal, which was interesting. My good friend, Seth, has used his blog to post recipes, and I'd like to follow suit. Here's what I had:

Sarah's What-the-heck Soup
1 can chicken stock
1 can water
1 kinda old potato
1 handful of shelled edamame
1 handful tortellini

Boil the water and chicken stock. Cut the potato into little squares. Don't bother peeling off the skin, since you don't have a potato peeler. When the potato is getting soft, add the tortellini and edamame. Cook for another 5 minutes, or until you decide it's done since you're hungry. Salt and pepper. Oh yeah, and after I had a couple of bites, I decided it needed a pat of butter, so I added that too, and it was a lot better.

There's half a pot of it in my fridge (I just stuck the lid on it since I don't have any tupperware!), and it will serve as my next meal, I'm thinking.

So now i'm processed a bit, and feeling better, actually. I was getting so stressed out about money and figuring out things these last few days, I actually had to sit down and write a list of all the things that were plaguing me. I also wrote a list of the worst thing that would happen with each thing, and I guess it's not so bad. I've struggled a lot with the aspect of having to "go it alone." It's hard to have to be so completely self-dependent. There's no one to pick up my slack when I really feel like I can't get up and do it myself, and there's no one's ATM card with the same last name that I can use to buy a cup of coffee. No one else is helping me decide where to put the plates and whether or not to get internet. It leaves me wondering, "when did life become so hard?" Has it always been hard and it's just that as I grow more and more independent, I have fewer people to share the tiresome burdens with? In the naivety of youth, we have people (usually parents) who do all this stuff for us. I learned pretty early on that I was going to have to take care of myself in this world, and seem to be continuing to learn that lesson. But when is it going to get easier? A guy by the last name of Peck wrote a book in which the first line is, "Life is difficult." Is it unreasonable to hope that things will get easier? Am I barking up the unsympathetic tree? Should I ignore this desire for relief, simply in case it doesn't ever happen that I have someone to share life with? Or, do I simply need to look outside my self, cancel the pity party and realize how much it doesn't matter? My grandma lived in cheer and joy amongst her sorrows, so I can, too. She taught me resolve, life taught me struggle. And living in joy is better than turmoil, no matter what. So, to my dear Grandma, no more saying "I hate my life," no more life-sucks-and-then-you-die attitude...time to embrace these days, and to live til death with my boots on.