Christmas of course represents the transition of Jesus Christ from heaven to earth. And we all celebrate New Year's, transitioning from one year to another. Resolutions, anyone?
Earlier in 2013, I had moved back home for non-Grandma reasons. But taking care of Grandma made it an easy decision to stick around. We still had to handle Grandma's burial and belongings, but this seemed like a good time to think about my own transitions. Get a job? Doing what, and where? Relationships? Faith? There seemed plenty of possibilities, and I tried to discern what I *should* do.
In January 2014, we buried Grandma in Seattle. Then we had a memorial in Sacramento. Then we had another memorial, back in Seattle! It was a lot of work by countless people, but I'm glad we did all that. I'm glad we gave Grandma's friends and family a chance to honor her, and I'm grateful for that chance, too. I was tasked with making a slideshow for Grandma's Sacramento memorial. I've always been aware of how I didn't help much when my dad passed away, and I wanted to try harder this time. I had learned from my dad's passing, 20 years ago, that it really is important to honor the person at that time. People do move on; we don't hold someone's memorial every year.
Anyway, here's Grandma's slideshow:
It definitely took a lot of work, but that part's kind of a blur now, and I'm grateful for how it turned out. I think my dad would've appreciated it, too.
At the start of February, I was home again, as were Mom and my sister. I'm sure we were all thinking about transitions. Mom's life had revolved around Grandma care for a couple years; now what? Did one of us need to stay with Mom? Would she move? Did my sister or I want to leave Sacramento?
I decided to work harder at my computer programming and see where that led. But Mom still had her own health problems. Twenty years ago, she almost died from a chronic autoimmune disease called Wegener's Granulomatosis. More recently, she had suffered drastic vision loss in her right eye over the course of one year, and numerous experts were unable to pinpoint the cause or an effective treatment. (Mom flew to Portland, New York, and even the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for advice.)
Then came Valentine's Day in Fresno. You see, before Grandma died, we had taken her to see Jake Shimabukuro in concert. She loved it! She was so excited after that concert that she had trouble sleeping that night. And after that day, Grandma'd love to hear music from Jake on our computers.Jake was playing again in Fresno the day after Valentine's Day, so Mom, my sister and I made a road trip to see him.
However, on Valentine's Day itself, my mom first had (another) eye appointment. Strangely, my mom had trouble simply writing out a check to the doctor. It was strange enough that the receptionist suggested setting up an appointment with Mom's regular doctor, so we walked over and made one for next week.
We all had a good time in Fresno, but I remember my mom struggling a bit. She had memory/communication problems.The next week, my sister took Mom to the doctor's appointment. Nothing new came from that. But the next day, Mom had an unrelated appointment with another doctor, and I think my mom's behavior was so strange that my sister took her to the ER.
The doctors at the hospital, Mercy General, did a CT and an MRI on my mom:
That, my dear, dear friends, is a tumor. It's dimensions are about 6 x 4 x 5 cm, or 2.5 x 1.5 x 2 inches. It's *not* benign. The diagnosis was "primary CNS lymphoma."
Remember how I mentioned transitions? Grandma's passing introduced a landscape of infinite possible transitions, for all of us. Yet now there would be none, or perhaps just one.
On the other hand, beforehand I didn't know how to decide what to do. Now, the decisions were easy.
Next time, perhaps: "Fighting Cancer."
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