2nd Spring Break

Today began Spring Break for both of my sisters (one a teacher, one a student) and for my mother (a local school nurse). For spring break, mom decided it would be a fantastic idea to travel up to Pittsburgh to help my grandparents spring clean. I’m having a hard time writing this, even right now, because my eyes are tearing up and I’m getting that lurch in my heart which lets me know that I’m about to lose it. I’m going with mom and my sisters tomorrow, and we’re driving to Pittsburgh. To be completely honest, I don’t want to go.

You see, this is the perfect week to go up there, really. Grandma is in the hospital, and grandpa is getting sick and/or not taking his medicine properly. Other than these two eventful things (which, sadly, aren’t really out of the ordinary), everything is pretty low-key. Aunts and uncles are getting along, school is going smoothly (maybe?) for the cousins, and the weather is starting to get nicer up there. I still don’t want to go.

Whenever someone asks why I’m going up to Pittsburgh for a week during school, I tell them the truth. We’re helping my grandparent’s clean out there house and organize and downsize. I also tell them the truth that I have come to accept: we’re helping prepare the family for my grandmother and grandfather’s deaths. Sad, right? Yeah. My heart is lurching a lot right now, and the tears are coming slowly but surely. I do not want to go.

I don’t want to go for a few reasons. First of all, and most selfishly, perhaps, is that I’m in school right now. My spring break was last week, so I will be missing a few classes next week. Thankfully, a few of my professors are really very gracious and have decided to let me skype into class and still be counted as present. This is fantastic news, since I barely have any skips left in most of them.

A second reason that I don’t want to go is because my heart is not prepared for this. I don’t want to see my grandparents sick. Death is inevitable, I know. I know this. I know this. I know this. But that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. And my grandparents are old. Let’s face it. Even if they weren’t sick, they would still be old and still be that much closer to death than I will ever be, as long as we’re going by the laws of nature and not circumstance. I do not want to go.

I don’t want to see them sick. I don’t want to work my butt off Sunday and Monday in their old house so that we can sort through their stuff to make it easier for when they die. I don’t want to drive eighteen hours. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to think of how this could be the last time I see my grandparents alive. We don’t ever see them much as it is. Just in the last few years have we seen them on a semi-regular basis. Grandma came down for my high school graduation (bless her heart), we went up for Christmas in 2009. And really, that’s what I mean by semi-regular basis. Twice in one year.

I do not want to go up there.

When will I ever go up again, though? When will I ever have this bittersweet opportunity? When will I get to work my butt off for two days so that I can spend five whole days hanging out with my family that I never get to see? When will I be able to take this trip with my mom and sisters ever again? When will I be able to visit with my grandmother ever again? When will I ever get to see my grandfather again?

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

I want to go. I really, really want to go. My heart wants to go. But I can’t stand the thought of this maybe being the last time I see them. Grandma has pneumonia, again. She has lung disease. She has asthma. Grandpa is a diabetic who doesn’t take care of himself. Why doesn’t he take care of himself?

I want to go so badly it hurts. I don’t want to go so much that it hurts.

Perhaps I’m being a wee bit dramatic.
Perhaps this won’t be the last time I see them.
Perhaps I’ll get to spend so much time with them that it will be the best visit I’ve ever had with either of them?
Perhaps Grandpa will unshell his heart enough for me to see who he actually is.
Perhaps I’ll have the peace of mind knowing that Grandpa really does love Grandma, and that she really does love him, too.
Perhaps I’ll get to see their love.
Perhaps I’ll finally find out if they really have Jesus in their hearts.

Oh, God. I want so badly for them to have Jesus in their hearts. I want so badly for them to go to Heaven. I want so badly for their earthly bodies that are old and broken and tired and weary to be replaced with the new body that Christ will give them when they go to Heaven. God, I hope they go to Heaven. I pray they go to Heaven. The threat of Hell has never been such a reality before now. The darkness that lies beneath the light of Heaven has never been so frightening and hated. My heart aches so much, so much, not knowing what will happen to my grandparent’s spirits.

The threat of Hell has never been such a reality.
The promise of Heaven has never looked so beautiful.
The longing inside of me for the redemption and resurrection of lives has never been so strong.
The desire for healing and forgiveness and hope and grace and mercy and Love has never been so relentless.
The tears that pour out as I try and reconcile these polar opposites have never been so many.

They can’t be reconciled, Heaven and Hell. Never will the two be reconciled.

But Christ is King.
And I take that to heart, and I remember it, and I cling to it.

I cling so tightly to that truth. The Truth. The hope. The promise.

And my prayer is that maybe, just maybe, my grandparents secretly cling to the same.

*edit*
Just found this post from last year. It was on my side bar and had grandma’s name on it.
Carol.