It's not fair....

Recently, I wrote a post for a friend about someone who impacted my life. I don't think that I realized how much he did, until I wrote that, but it was very good for me. I need to do that again, for someone who means the world to me. Today, I am faced with an awful reality. I have been avoiding writing about this subject because this one will bring me to tears. I have ever tried to be the strong one and keep it together for everyone around me, but that means cutting off my emotions sometimes. I have been holding this one in for weeks now.  I think the best way to pay tribute and let myself feel, would be to start at the beginning.

My mother raised me alone. My father was never around. I grew up fatherless. My mother raised me on her own, never knowing her worth. She never felt worthy of love. We were the dynamic duo. We learned life together. We suffered together. We created this bond, that most see as unnatural, that is unbreakable. I know when she is in pain, even miles away. I just know. We have a theme song.

I grew up and moved away. I started my own life. I went through hell and back to find happiness. Through it all, my mother was my rock. She was my voice of reason. When my eyes and ears failed me, she would whisper what I did not see. I relied on her and she relied on me.

As I was forging myself into who I am today, my mother was doing the same. She was breaking out of the cocoon that had become raising me as a teen mom. She was going to parties and making friends. She even signed up for a dating site. That was so big. This woman that I idolized was finally seeing some of her worth. She was putting herself out there and taking risks.

About seven years ago, I called her house to see what she was up to. (I knew it was something.) My grandmother told me she was out on a date. As a matter of fact, she told me that my mother had been dating the same man for months. I was so thrilled. She was having the life that I felt I had stolen from her.

When she came to visit me after my divorce, she spoke about him. They were buying a house. They were making life plans. Her eyes lit up like diamonds and her voice softened to satin. She spoke of him with reverence and love I had only seen her speak about me. She would giggle on the phone with him. It was so amazing to see. I admit, a little jealousy crept in, but the look on my mother's face overrode everything.

She announced six months later they were getting married. I know what my mother thought of this man, but I had yet to meet him and I had my reservations. We packed up the family and headed out west. I was to give my mother away. I had some very mixed feelings about that. Not only was I giving her away to a man I had never met, but I was gaining a brother in the deal. My whole world was changing.

When we arrived at my mother's new home, I cautiously approached the door. I was so nervous. Then, that blue door opened up, a man with blonde receding hair and dork glasses came out, and wrapped me in the biggest hug. I looked him in the face, smiled sweetly, and told him, "If you hurt my mother, I will hunt you down and kill you." And so began a new chapter for us all.

I never imagined that giving my mother away, that I would be giving a piece of my heart away to this man. That was 5 years ago. I love this man. Since the wedding, he has taken my family into his home to help us get on our feet. He has been a rock for all of us. He has been the grandfather my children needed. He has been so much, but most important, he is the father I never had.

Three weeks ago, my mother texted me. She asked me to get in touch with her because it was important. I called. She was in tears. My father was being tested for cancer. He was just being tested. I asked the questions that needed to be asked and waited for the results. The first results, two weeks ago said lymphoma. The survival rate for that is high and I was awash with relief. He still had a few more tests to go, but this we could do. Then, it all changed.

This last Wednesday, while on my way home, I got devastating news. This man that I have come to love as my father has stage four lung cancer. It has spread to his bones. This is incurable. I have spent days looking for loopholes or alternate remedies to extend life, but prognosis is about 6 months. I cannot even begin to express how unfair this is.

I don't want him to die. I want to be hopeful, and part of me is, but the part of me that has to know all the statistics knows that he has a one percent chance of survival through the year. Those are horrible odds. I know that when I saw him two weeks ago, it was a far cry from what I saw two days ago. He is showing signs of pain and exhaustion. It hurts to see. It hurts to feel.

I don't think I am ready for another death so close to my heart. It's been ten years, but that isn't long enough. This is so incredibly unfair for everyone; me, my mother, my children, his son, his one year old grandson. I don't want this. I wanted him to see my son graduate high school and go to an amazing college. I wanted him to be here when my daughter starts dating to scare off the boys. I wanted him to be there when my children find the kind of love he provides. I want them to be old enough to remember all that this man is. I want them to remember the light he brings to the world. I want them to remember that he didn't have to love us, he CHOSE to love us. He chose to take us into his heart.

He chose to call my children his family. He takes them fishing and hiking. He picks flowers for my daughter and rescues the worms that might fall so she doesn't cry. He encourages my son to be a better man as he grows older. HE is the role model I would have chosen for them. He has given my mother unconditional love. He has shown her that she has worth. He has shown her that she can be loved and should be. He accepted my wife without even blinking. He took us all in. He made room for us all in his heart.

Now, we are faced with goodbye. I don't want this. I want to wave a magic wand and keep this man from leaving this world. I never knew what I was missing until I had it. I didn't take it for granted. I bathed in it. Now, it is being ripped away from me. Who is going to be the comedy relief at dinner? Who is going to understand my children and love them for who they are? Who is going to wrap my daughter in their favorite blanket and watch stupid Barbie movies with her? Who? Sure, these things could be done by anyone, but it really isn't the same.

I don't know what the world is going to look like when he is gone, but I know that it will not be as beautiful. The universe is not just robbing our family of someone we love, it is robbing the world of an amazing man. A man that can restore faith in daughters who had none for fathers. A man that has strong principles. A man that cares deeply, speaks little, and brightens the world. It's not fair.

It's too soon....

I have been brewing this one for a good two weeks. I don't even know where to start. There is so much turmoil and stress going on in my life right now, that sometimes, it is wicked hard to breathe. We went on a vacation for spring break. As is usual when you gather several ASD kids for a vacation, I returned needing a vacation from my vacation. The vacation I took from reality was just stressful in a different way. I did remember how to smile and I did have an amazing time, but it was so exhausting.

I returned home to two separate personal issues. The first is in regards to the fact that bio is in town. It's been a good long while since he graced my kids with his presence. It freaks me out more than a little bit. I cannot name a time that we really every agreed on anything regarding the children. The idea that he has them and I am not there to help them, is very disconcerting. What if they meltdown? What if my son has a panic attack? I am not there to talk them through it and he hasn't been around enough to know. He hasn't walked this path with us. He has fervently ignored it for a very long time. I don't know that he can ignore it anymore, but it still raises all my defenses that I am not there to help them with the things I do everyday, like button my daughter's pants or make sure my son wears underwear. It really is the little things.

I did get to talk to them tonight. It was through Facebook on his account, but that doesn't really matter to me. I don't really have anything to hide. If he wanted a bigger part in his children's lives, he would make a better effort. As it is, he makes, what feels like, a minimal effort. There are extenuating circumstances, but not enough to keep him away for as long as he was. I think a lot of my panic has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. Well, that isn't entirely true, but I think the majority is. I need to get over that. They return after the weekend and we shall see.

The other issue I returned to face was the diagnosis of my step father with stage four lung cancer. There is no cure. It can be managed. He does have a small chance of survival and everyone is clinging to that right now. I am researching all over because, despite my hopes he will come out the other side, I am a realist. One percent is not a large percentage at all. Honestly, it really freaks me out. I have not processed it all yet, but I am sure it will hit me.

I have not told my daughter. I don't know how. I told my son because I know better than to try and hide things from him. I feel cheated. My own father is most frequently a non existent entity. This man came into our lives over 5 years ago. For the first time, I had a real dad. My mother had someone to love her like she deserved. We waited so long for that. Both of us waited. Miraculously, we were granted the chance at that. Now, the universe wants to take it away.

I don't want to lose the man I consider father. I don't want my kids to lose their grandpa. I don't want to face reality on this one. However, since nobody else will, I sort of have to. I have to prepare myself to be the rock. I have so many people to hold together. I am not responsible for the world, but I am responsible for my own little one. I don't like Death. I have been bedfellows with him before and it sucked royally.

I am starting to accept the hard reality that my life will never be easy. The days of smooth sailing are going to be few and far between for awhile. I don't know how to feel about that. Everyone keeps telling me to deal with one thing at a time, but that isn't particularly possible. They are both happening at the same time. I am running from one fear to the next and back. I am micromanaging myself to death. I would love to say that I will stop it, but I won't. I will continue to be the go to. I will be the get it done girl. I will be the rock, the shoulder, and the reasonable one. In between, I will be the girl who isn't sleeping, forgets to eat, and cries at midnight when nobody is around.

That is something I have been doing for a long time. I have been falling apart on my own time. It means no real down time, but everyone needs something all the time. I am strong enough to do it. I don't have to like it. My soul feels broken over my dad. Nobody will talk about it, so I had to look it all up and from what I can gather, median prognosis is just shy of six months. I am not ready to face that. I am about to lose the only father I have ever really known. Maybe one day, I will take the time to tell you about this man that changed my and my mother's world so profoundly. It's a beautiful tale. He is a beautiful person. The impacts he has made on me are profound.

I am on the hope bandwagon. I am hoping with everything in me. I am not ready for this. I am not ready to lose another person so close to my heart. It's been almost 11 years, but it's too soon.

How far....

So, life sped up, as life is prone to do. Things are good here, but busy as hell. We have IEP's and vacation. We have surprise visitors sprung on us. You know the kind. The ones where they aren't good surprises. They have the potential to stress you out. Then, they have the audacity to be right on top of the vacation you have been planning and looking forward to, giving them more chance to just ruin everything right out from under you. However, I am not going to let that happen.

It has been awhile since I got on here and let it all out. I know that. I don't know if you all noticed, but I did. I am getting tense again. I need to write, even if I don't know what to say, or how to get it out. I think I told you about the crap holidays we had, but if I didn't, they were crap. My mother had surgery. Everyone seems to need something from us and all we can do is count down the days until we are out of here for a week. Twelve...eleven...ten...

Then comes "The Email." Yup, here comes an unwanted guest. No, they are not staying here. I would end up in jail, if that were the case. They are coming however, with three weeks notice, I might add. My kids are flipping out at the news. There is a mix of happiness, fear, and trepidation in both. I am a ball of stress. I am running around trying to prepare for everything at once, despite that I have a week left before the train hits full speed.

The week we leave, we have back to back IEP meetings. Neither of which are going to be easily won, even with an advocate. We are meeting with good friends for vacation. Nothing will ruin that week. We are going and you can't stop us. If you know me, don't try to call. I am not answering the phone. The day we get back is when "they" arrive. I have twelve hours between when we get back until "they" intrude in our lives.

I want you all to take note of something here. My writing is not hurried or full of angst. It is just matter of fact. I don't know how many of you really understand what that means. Three years ago, under almost the same circumstances, I was in the corner of my living room, bawling my eyes out in terror. I was afraid of how things would go down. What were these people going to do to me this time? You know what? I am not like that anymore.

I am owning my shit. Yes, I will have fear and probably a few moments of weakness, but I have come so damn far. I was given a demand this time. I didn't cave. I responded with a respectful, "No." I will not be ruled by fear and intimidation anymore. I realize, that despite the fear and loathing I hold inside of me, it does not control me anymore. For that, I have a team of friends and an awesome DV therapist to thank. This journey is far from over for me, but the strides I have made are incredible.

I control the situation. I control me. As long as I feel together, the rest will fall into place. For me, I see this as having broken the bonds that kept me in fear. There will always BE fear, but I don't have to be a slave to it. So, the timing sucks. So, it means I have to do more in a shorter period of time, to cover all eventual outcomes, but so what!?! I will do them. However, I will not fear this. I will always fear how things affect my kids, but for me, I am so done being scared. I am facing those demons and kicking their asses. As far as my kids go, yeah, I will worry. That doesn't mean that I am still trapped by fear. It means that I have overcome it. I'm not afraid for me anymore. That feels so good.

Juanita knows better....

Some days, I don't know if writing it out will work. There are days that are so dark in my mind and I feel completely helpless. Today is one of those days. They don't happen often, but sometimes, a person has to break in order to put themselves back together. Seems that for me, today is that day. I should have seen it coming. For a month now, I have been running from one crisis to another. I told someone today, "I can't even afford to breathe, and that is supposed to be free."

That is how it feels. I nearly lost a family member just before Christmas, and again a few days after. I took in her child and got nothing but crap from him in return. I ran him all over kingdom come, tried to be an ally in a world he sees as an enemy, and tried to reason with him about pretty much everything. I know better than this, but the eternal optimist in me kept saying, "If you don't do this, who will?" So, I did. I got wrapped into a battle with everyone and ended up being therapist, firefighter, and doctor to all.

In the midst of this, my cat died. My son found her. It was awful. I cried the night it happened and have teared up here and there, but I have not had time to grieve for my cat. And she was MY cat. I forced myself to make merry and give my kids the best holiday I could under the circumstances. It was not easy, but I pulled it off. The kids had some major meltdowns and things were really ugly here for about two weeks, but we did it.

My mother injured herself. I am more than happy to help out with what she needs, but it is taking it's toll. I want to be there and help, but it always seems like something. Then, they had their own emergency, which has left me terrified for the well being of my step brother. This sort of thing could break someone's mind. I worry about him. I worry about the implications of the decisions he has been forced to make and the backlash that could occur. I know I can't do anything about it, but my heart aches for him.

My kids both had IEP meetings last week. Of course, they came back with the standard "your kids are smart and don't qualify." That kills me. Honestly, that is just another knife to the heart. This thing with SS and school was meant to be temporary because I knew she needed more. The options that the DOE are saying I have leaves one or both of us in a worse place than we are. I am hoping the advocate can help, but lately, hope seems so far away.

I have spent the entire week arguing with the ex over something totally inconsequential. I think it's just that time of year to pick a fight with me, but that sets of triggers and things that I don't like to think about. I handled myself well and that seems to have calmed for the moment, but with him, it's only a matter of time.

Through all of this darkness and just crap, I had one light. We were planning a vacation. We so need it. Now, there is still a small chance for this, but this was the straw that broke me. It turns out they changed policies at Puck's company on Friday. They force you to use PTO for FMLA, which we knew. Now, they are saying that you cannot request unpaid time off if you don't have any time. I see where this is logical for those going out for 12 weeks or even 2 and then requesting vacation, but for those on intermittent, that's like saying because you have a disability or a child with one that requires you to be home sometimes, you can't take vacation like everyone else, even unpaid.

I don't think it would hurt so bad if it didn't once again feel like a dig at my kids because they are different. This is not anyone's fault. The way I feel is my sole responsibility. I let myself get excited. I let myself look forward to something. I know better. It's never that easy. I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I feel like I am failing my kids because I can't get them what they need. I feel like it's all warped and backwards. I am constantly defending their disability because they need help, but then something like this happens. It's like they can't get help or a break. Neither can we. I am just so tired of it all.

I spend days on end arguing, bargaining, and running around for my kids. They endure more shit, testing, appointments, and car rides than any kid ever should. Do you think they get a break? No. No they don't. I was going to give that to them. However, due to their not being able to be perfect stepford kids through all that they go through, I am looking at that not happening. Let's be real here. Any child put through that kind of gauntlet is going to have trouble. Now, take away the "normal" neural pathways to express emotions. Yeah, we had more than our fair share of really bad meltdowns from both at the same time in the last month.

I am angry that people don't understand the strains on us daily, even those that are here. I am tired of the four of us having to do it all alone, even when it is near impossible. And I am heartbroken that because we try so hard for our kids to have normal lives, that they are denied normal things like vacations. It's not a final no, but today, it seems like it. Today is a hard day. Today is my breaking day. I don't like today. I do know that no matter how dark or hopeless it feels right now, it will feel better later. Yes, Juanita knows this, but right now, it doesn't matter.

I have to grieve. I have to deal. I have to sort through the ten mile high mound of shit on my back. I have to stop trying to plan things. I have to live in the moment. I need to stop making plans, or trying to. I have to cry. Most importantly, right now, I have to feel sorry for myself. That sounds so selfish, but if I live in the mindset that it can always get worse, then it quite possibly could. Real life is hard. Reality sucks a lot sometimes. I just hope that, by some miracle, this all pans out for the kids. They more than deserve a week to be themselves and to be kids.

Two hats, one head....

They say that autism parents have stress levels similar to combat soldiers. I do not doubt this. Some lives are easier than others, but in the long run, it really does take it's toll. There are doctors, specialists, and fights with the school. There are battles over schedules, food, and responsibility. There are a lot of battles. Most families seek out a local support system to help them survive the turmoil and stress that, just getting through some days requires. I envy those people. I don't envy many people. I am usually pretty content with our family and what we have been dealt. I am a strong and capable woman. I know this and find more strength in myself daily. It doesn't come without a price.

I may not have a strong support system, for what seems to everyone around me, to be things I should just figure out how to handle. However, I AM the support system for them. I am the baby of the children and eldest of the grandchildren. I am the only one with special needs kids, or kids between the ages of two and fifteen. I run myself ragged, day in and day out, just to get my own life to function. Still, most days, I am the only responsible adult around, other than my wife. When push comes to shove and tragedy rears it's very ugly head, we shoulder the brunt of the difficult stuff.

I won't go into detail, but this week, we had a very scary family emergency. I admit, my family is really good at running a telephone game, but action... It's not there. Someone very near to me came as close to deaths door as anyone can. When I received the call, nothing had been done about her son. Nobody had gone to get him. He's a teen and said some angry teen things when the family stepped up. His eyes saw the family taking his mom. Never mind that she was sick. He saw them taking her away. I get it.

Anyway, I flew into action. I immediately secured numbers and called around. I arranged for him to come here. I picked him up and sheltered and cared for him for three days. His mom is in the hospital. Someone needed to care for him. I honestly don't mind that. What really gets me, is this: With all the family here, how is it that I was the only one to go to the hospital everyday and take him back and forth an hour to his house and still keep my own schedules with my own kids?

The rest of the family gets time to process it all. They get to cry in the privacy of their homes at night and step away from it all. I brought it home. They call and tell me how or what to say to this boy because he is so angry. It is so important to them for him to understand everyone else's position. His emotions and processing don't seem to matter. They may have tried the blunt approach to get through his panic, but some of the things said to this child were terrible. Hell, some of the things they said to his mom were not so great, even if they were true.

The whole situation was badly handled. I spent three days talking and being there for a boy who nearly lost his mother and they did everything they could to make it as miserable as they could, for him. They dragged him into family discussions that NO child should be a part of. They included family members in those discussions that had no real place in them. They ostracized this child to the point that he blocked their numbers for a good two days. All the while, I am doing what I do around here with my own kids, plus taking care of his needs. That meant a lot of driving and a lot of putting out fires.

I see where the family wants him to see things correctly, but as long as he is burying the pain, he isn't going to see much of anything. I took him home yesterday. I am waiting to hear if he will be returning for a few days, during the holidays. He's a good kid. Today was really hard for me. (Here is where we come back around to that stress level.) I live with this heightened level of stress. I guess I just forget that I am the family firefighter too. While everyone decompressed and handled their grief and shock in their own way, I was holding it together and doing what I had to to make sure we didn't lose him.

In the quite of the morning and the uncertainty of the days to come, I had a little time to think. Yes, I have been protecting this boy and getting him through, but I almost lost her too. I can't fully come out of crisis mode because, honestly, this is far from over, but I need to let some of it out. I almost lost her. It was like a tidal wave of emotions. I pushed most of them back down, but it was enough.

I finally ate something. It seems that I forgot to do that. I was too worried about making sure he did. I have been plagued with nightmares, that until I really looked at them today, didn't make sense. I am afraid for me and my family. My wife is so capable, but to do this alone is a daunting thought. I have no doubt that my family would circle the wagons, but what happens when I am not there to put out the flames? What if it is me? Who is going to remain calm? Who is going to put my children ahead of any agenda and treat them with dignity and respect? I don't know. I really don't. I mean, I brought her underwear in the hospital. Somehow, I found time between school, stress, running the kids around, and family life, to go shopping for her and bring them down to her. Underwear. Simple thing. She was asking. Why did nobody do this for her?

I bet if I asked, they would tell me they didn't have time. Nobody ever has time. I needed time today. I needed somebody to look at what my family did this week and say, "You did so much. We appreciate it. You must be tired. Let me take the kids for an hour or two." Funny thing is, I haven't gotten a call all day. I did my job. Now, my family is shuffled back to the section everyone ignores. I am left to pull myself together and still function, when really, I just need one day or night to cry it out and deal with it all.

I would never change who I am at my core. I will always be there to help. I will never leave a child in the cold and I will always be there to help. Just, sometimes, I wish it was more of a two way street. I guess the point of this all is, don't overlook what others are doing for you. Don't underplay the acts or help. Appreciate what you have. It is hard to be an autism mom. It is infinitely harder to be an autism mom and the family firefighter. Hug your level headed family member. Be a shoulder to the one who didn't look inward and really put themselves out there as a stress sponge. Appreciate that. Not many people are like that.

I am not completely selfless, but I do value family and children. I hope that others do so as well.

Mommy Guilt

When you get pregnant, people tell you to rest up. You won't be getting sleep. Your parents tell you all your own baby stories. They tell you to buy diapers a size too big. They tell you you don't need all that fancy nonsense like diaper pails and wipe warmers. There is all this advice coming at you from every direction. Some of it is good, some of it is not so good, but it is a virtual treasure trove of advice.

When your kid turns two, they tell you that he will be into everything. She will hide all your stuff. He will throw temper tantrums. Just as they are about to turn three, they tell you that it isn't REALLY the terrible twos, but that three is worse. They tell you to expect it to get worse.

As the years go on, they tell you what milestones and things you can expect. They tell you how you should do or handle something. For a neuortypical child, this is stereotyping at it's best. For kids on the spectrum, it's like a big neon sign that says, "You are doing it wrong."

Thing is, despite the makeup of your neurology, us moms get mommy guilt. We really do. Why our parents or parents of older children don't tell us about this, I have no idea. It is awful. There is some sort of rite of passage amongst parents that says at one time or another, probably several times, you are going to feel like a failure. Somewhere in the secret mommy manual, which I ripped up and burned, we aren't supposed to talk about it.

Why does my kid talk to me like that? Why can't they keep their hands to themselves? Why is no not sufficient? Why are they so destructive? Why do they have to steal instead of ask for things? The list goes on and on. Where did I go wrong? What could I have done different? How did I NOT teach my child that is not alright? And here is the thing...

You did. Well, you most likely did. Most parents do. However, kids entering their teen years and beyond throw out all we taught them and try to find their way. Usually their way is full of really bad choices and behaviors. It isn't an indication of your skill as a parent, it means you did something right. Your kid is trying to find their way in the world instead of being a sheep amongst lions.

The fact that you are sitting there, crying your eyes out, about what you should have, could have done different, tells me something about you. It tells me something about me, when I clean the tear tracks and snot off my face. If I was a horrible parent that never taught my children these lessons, I wouldn't be so upset when they were not putting them to use. If you feel like you failed, then you tried. In today's society, that is more than a lot of parents do. It doesn't mean that you failed. It means you care enough to worry that you did. It means you are thinking about how to change the cycle or behavior. It means that you are being a good parent.

You see your child suffering and you just want to fix it, but they aren't babies anymore. Sometimes, they have to fix it themselves. Notice that your mommy guilt doesn't say what did THEY do wrong. It says what did *I* do wrong. That tells me that their suffering is impacting you, but the mommy in you wants to fix it. It's alright to be sad about the choices our children make, but as they get older, they do have to make them. No matter the lessons we impart, they will fall. They will make mistakes. That is part of life. It isn't what you could have done differently. For them, it is a learning experience. You taught them to behave, act, and speak a certain way. Now they want to know why the other way is not ok.

It's something we should be telling each other. Why we suffer through this guilt alone, is beyond me. We all share it. It's something we all go through. The fear and guilt of having a child grow up and test boundaries needs to be something people tell you.

Just know, you aren't alone. Millions of mommies out there share that guilt. We cry. We shout to the heavens. We hide our faces in fear that it is our fault. It's not. It's part of growing up. Not just for them, but for us too. We have to go through this. I don't know why yet. I am still in the middle of it, but maybe someday I will.

Bringing My Daughter Home

Some of you will understand this. Some of you have been where I have been, or seen what I have seen. Far too many of you have probably gone through something similar. Most of you will be able to relate this to someone in your life. Today I did something that was harder than I thought it would be. It's ironic to think that 8 years ago, I did the opposite but said the same thing. It was a solemn thing. The only one in the house that really took internal note of what I was doing was SS. Today, I brought my daughter home.

Ten years ago, as many of you know, I lost my first baby girl. It was a very dark time in my life. I had a very difficult time moving on. For years, I was lost in this haze that never seemed to go away. I lived my life, day in and day out. I had another child. Yet, I could never quite get there. I made a very difficult decision after 2 years of not feeling like I was making progress. I made the decision to bury my daughter's ashes. It was a finality for me that I thought I needed.

My grandmother stepped in while we were making the plans. She asked if she could hold onto my daughter's ashes until she passed away, in order for them to be buried together. I found that to be an amazing request from a woman I regarded as more my mother. I agreed, backed by my whole heart. What I didn't realize was, I think my grandmother knew that I needed the space to grieve, but I wasn't really ready to put her to rest. She is a wise woman. I have always known that, but today, I realized how intuitive she really is.

So, my daughter's little lavender box with her ashes went to live with my grandmother. She has been there for 8 long years. When I visit my grandmother, I always stop to say hello or tell her I love her. She was not forgotten, nor was she any less loved.

My grandmother went into surgery last week. During her recovery for the next few weeks, she is not staying at home. It bothered me that my daughter was alone in the house. There was nobody there. I asked my grandmother if she minded if I brought her home until she recovered. She smiled at me and asked me if it was that time. I didn't understand in the moment, but I do now.

My grandmother is getting on in life. Her health has been declining. Though she looks as hale as ever, the reports say different. She knows that. She knew I would need time to say goodbye. She knew before I did. I do need that little bit of time. She has been gone ten years now and it feels like yesterday. I need this time because in the end, it really will be a final goodbye for me.

I picked her up today. SS asked what it was I was carrying and I showed her. She looked at me with a solemn and sad face. I told her that it was alright. That we just needed to bring her home until grandma gets better. She was very quiet.

She said, "I never met her, but I feel like I know her. I miss her. She was my sister."

It doesn't get more real than that. We all need this time to come to terms with something that is a complex and emotional situation. They need to make peace with this sibling that they never knew. I need to take the time to say goodbye. I need to be ready to put her to rest for a final time. Even if she isn't here, her ashes are. That has always been the thing that held me from healing. I had something of her on this earth. It is time for me to make my peace with myself and with her.

I will always love her. She is always in my heart and moving around my soul, and now, she is in my home as long as we can hold on to her. Then, when it is time, maybe it will be easier to bury what I have left of her. It's nice to know that she will have my grandmother and my grandmother her, when that time comes. Until then, my daughter is home where she belongs.