Peace & Love: Healing

She's home. She's healing. She's not happy with her shaved head. She's alive, and she's moving forward just like we imagined she would. Pathology reports are making their way in. Something I don't stalk or push for. Same for my dad. We'll get the answers we need, in all the right time.

The trip was all I expected, and yet, not what I expected, at all.

We had our aunt wrap her arms around us in full form. Opening her home and two cozy beds to us. Two aunts that sat in that waiting room with us. Sorting. Talking. Laughing. Loving. Eating. And of course sipping on a good margarita!

A dad that paced the outer parts of that hospital, because that's just how he rolls. Hugging and kissing his wife before and after surgery. A kiss so special before they wheeled her away it made me fall into a blubbery mess.

The "Sickness And In Health" clause they vowed to one another almost 50 years ago.

The smiling eyes she gave us in recovery. Her two daughters. Her husband. The words that blossomed from her soul, "I'm so glad it's all over and that devil tumor is out"-

Us too mom, us too.

Her amazing doctor that gave us the much needed laugh we all searched for in those long hours in a hospital. Not because he was funny. But because when he explained the details he'd close his eyes for a long duration of time. Have you ever encountered people that do that? They talk, and close their eyes. LOL!

The hospital was a step beyond what I imagined. Almost wanting to say "they had a grip over Kaiser"- They did. Their nurses, their doctors, their staff, and most importantly....the cleanliness...

All of it. Amazing.

The restaurants within walking distance from her very room. Two different places my sister and aunt tucked ourselves into. After long grueling days staring at our mom/sister....sharing a good margarita while catching the Dodgers game (Woot-Woot!).....

So yesterday is gone. So is last week. And the week before. The reality of closing out that chapter is yet another reminder that "You will get through this" is true.

The morning of surgery I had no extra words for my mom. As a matter of fact, all I could type was "I love you". I felt like there was nothing you can prepare or tell someone going in for brain surgery....

It's like....just walk.

Just go.

Just go....

And she did.

My mom is a quiet, stoic, go-with-the-flow type of gal. The type of woman that mumbles her frustrations under her breath. She stands tall when she has too, yet most always just lets the vibe clear itself. It's who she is.

Pam.

Mom.

My aunties. Nettie- Thank you again. You took us under your mama wings. Jeff, thank you. You both made your home feel like our home. From the cozy bed and linens to the alkaline water you poured for me that night before we all tucked away. The laughs we shared at dinner Nettie. My advice to you, and yet your analogy of some things still resonate and crack me up. God, the Easter Bunny, and Santa- LOL!)

Family.

I'm thankful.

Lyn; Thank you for making the trek up there. To sit with us. Laugh with us. Hugging us.

That long chat we shared before bed covering things in our family. As you stood there with that shower cap on, and I wiggled my feet in bed so relaxed, and yet learning more tid bits about our vines.

Moments in that night that I'll remember forever.

Thanks for flipping pages in this chapter with me. With us.

My sister. Whom bolted back and forth with me in my "Tic-Tac" rental....LOL!!!!!

vrrrrrooooommmmm

We found sweet little restaurants close to the hospital where we'd re-group, sip wine, eat good food, and stare at one another. Sisterhood. Gossiping in a good way about our parents. About this life.

About sickness and health. About how life is good, and yet so hard.

And that tic-tac car would get us to and from our aunt and uncles house.

Another chapter in our family vine book closed. Another set of pages we wrote.

Together.

Nettie, not sure if you read my blog anymore. I can't thank you enough. From the living room chat that morning. To the reassuring hugs the morning of surgery. To the bed I laid my tired head in. Your home is extra warm and welcoming.

When I landed back home and my handsome birdie picked me up from the airport I reflected back to the days leading up to this closing chapter. The nervousness I felt. We all felt. The unknown. The hovering. The fear. The trauma. The scary parts of surgery. Recovery. IV carts. Nurses with language barriers that always fuck me up. The beeps. The queasy things I'm not cut out for, yet partially so.

I truly felt none of that.

None.

Tis' the things in life work out that way, right? We expect to step in fire, and yet it's not fire.

It's the complete opposite.

There was love. Conversation. Laughter. Learning. Sharing. Family time.

It's what I expected, and yet not what I expected.

October, you're a wild one, that's for sure.