So it seems Beth and I are now heading to the Big Apple for a bit while I interview for a new job and take on some freelance work on the side. I can't say I ever really expected to live in that city for very long, seeing that I'm often easily frightened by loud noises and tight spaces and don't particularly like big apples, but there's no telling how long we'll be sticking around up there. The job actually involves being paid real money (as opposed to free taquito's at 7 Eleven) and is a creative position that as a bonus would look mighty fine on a resume. Considering that a lot of people move to New York for a lot less I really have no reason to complain. That said, I feel like it's a huge responsibility and we still miss you all. Especially Georgie. I have at least decided to send Beth out your way sometime in the future by way of a Jet Blue gift card given to us by my sister and brother-in-law. Mainly so that she could pick up said Georgie for me. How or when this will happen I do not know. What I do know is that Beth and I will probably be sleeping in my sisters closet this week. It's good to know at least some things.
It's been weird moving around so much and I hope we can manage to settle down somewhere nice in this world.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Today, after a picnic alongside the Potomac river followed by a sudden, debilitating case of cramps, I sit in a glowing peach colored room, surrounded by chocolate bars, cheez-its, and a heap of freshly washed laundry.
Things are going pretty well here in Bethesda, although I'm not exactly sure what do with myself most of the time. The weather here is hot and sticky. I miss Portland the most on long car rides through the congested streets of DC in the decrepit family van which allows for neither A/C or open windows.
We've slowly begun the process of taking down the web of photos, cards, and tape that surrounded Cindy's bed to reveal a glimpse of the pink walls beneath. The house is still filled with family and screaming children even now. Yesterday evening I returned to our room to discover that the two youngest nieces had decided to play dress up with the entire contents of my suitcase which was now laid to waste across the bedroom floor. Sometimes I struggle to find the desire to have children.
Things are going pretty well here in Bethesda, although I'm not exactly sure what do with myself most of the time. The weather here is hot and sticky. I miss Portland the most on long car rides through the congested streets of DC in the decrepit family van which allows for neither A/C or open windows.
We've slowly begun the process of taking down the web of photos, cards, and tape that surrounded Cindy's bed to reveal a glimpse of the pink walls beneath. The house is still filled with family and screaming children even now. Yesterday evening I returned to our room to discover that the two youngest nieces had decided to play dress up with the entire contents of my suitcase which was now laid to waste across the bedroom floor. Sometimes I struggle to find the desire to have children.
Monday, July 12, 2010
It's decided for now that DC will be our new home. Beth stayed behind a couple days after me to pack up the apartment with the help of her parents who have graciously allowed us to fill their garage with boxes once again.
Last night, in the evening, before the sun set, my mom died. Her pronounced time of death was 7:45, but I don't think any of us really bothered to look at the clock. The days leading up to the moment and even the moments now seem unreal. At times it's as though I'm sitting in a movie theater watching someone else wander through my life in a surreal first-person documentary.
As my niece Madison put it in her e-mail, which was rather elegantly entitled "Dead," she wrote, "Today is very sad. My grand mother just died. She lived a good life."
Beth and I, along with my aunt Sue, brother Nick, sister Tiffany, father, and grandparents, were all at my mothers side when she took her last breath. This, in itself, is a miracle. She died just as she had wanted, at home, surrounded by those she loved. My father was singing her favorite hymns, and at the crescendo of "Household of Faith," her most favorite of all, she passed away.
I had never seen anyone actually die before, and death is not the most elegant of experiences to either experience or view. Immediately when it occurred I felt the moment repeat on a loop in my mind, and it took Beth to remind me that the moment isn't of any importance in comparison to the freedom to follow. My mom fought for life for so many years. It's comforting for me to know with certainty that my mother has truly found her home with God, and I think in her very last moments it was comforting for her to know that we would be sharing that eternity with her as well. With that in mind, today is not so sad after all.
I want to thank you all for your prayers and for your support. Even now we are surrounded with friends and family while embracing memories of our missing friend. Up to her final moments she kept her sense of humor and hospitality, whether she was frequently telling me to cut my hair, celebrating my sister-in-law Susan's birthday party, or musing on her fancy reclining chair that in her opinion was at once both magical and "tragical." My mom has left behind a lot of great memories throughout the course of a lifetime.
Last night, in the evening, before the sun set, my mom died. Her pronounced time of death was 7:45, but I don't think any of us really bothered to look at the clock. The days leading up to the moment and even the moments now seem unreal. At times it's as though I'm sitting in a movie theater watching someone else wander through my life in a surreal first-person documentary.
As my niece Madison put it in her e-mail, which was rather elegantly entitled "Dead," she wrote, "Today is very sad. My grand mother just died. She lived a good life."
Beth and I, along with my aunt Sue, brother Nick, sister Tiffany, father, and grandparents, were all at my mothers side when she took her last breath. This, in itself, is a miracle. She died just as she had wanted, at home, surrounded by those she loved. My father was singing her favorite hymns, and at the crescendo of "Household of Faith," her most favorite of all, she passed away.
I had never seen anyone actually die before, and death is not the most elegant of experiences to either experience or view. Immediately when it occurred I felt the moment repeat on a loop in my mind, and it took Beth to remind me that the moment isn't of any importance in comparison to the freedom to follow. My mom fought for life for so many years. It's comforting for me to know with certainty that my mother has truly found her home with God, and I think in her very last moments it was comforting for her to know that we would be sharing that eternity with her as well. With that in mind, today is not so sad after all.
I want to thank you all for your prayers and for your support. Even now we are surrounded with friends and family while embracing memories of our missing friend. Up to her final moments she kept her sense of humor and hospitality, whether she was frequently telling me to cut my hair, celebrating my sister-in-law Susan's birthday party, or musing on her fancy reclining chair that in her opinion was at once both magical and "tragical." My mom has left behind a lot of great memories throughout the course of a lifetime.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
I suppose I should probably elaborate a tad more on Beth's previous post.
If you didn't know, a few years ago my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I actually came back during college to kind of hold down the fort until it seemed like the coast was clear, or at least until Beth and I got to talking and I decided it was time to get back to California.
Over the past few months my mom's progress was declining, and although she managed to get to the beach this summer with some friends, over the past week her condition has suddenly worsened.
The general consensus is that the cancer has spread to her brain. Her speech is very slurred, eyes very droopy, and her overall presence is very thin. She often wonders why my dad is giving her two pills, when in fact she's only seeing double.
A few nights ago she complained to my sister about a woman in a red sweater sitting next to her. When my sister asked whether the sweater was too red or too bright my mother simply stated that it was 102 degrees in DC and there's no need for one. She then concluded, "and of course, she isn't real is she?" The woman in fact, wasn't. Apparently hallucinations are part of the mix now too.
I'm not sure how many days she has left. It just doesn't seem quite right (and we can't really afford) to fly out here to D.C. now, head back later, and then come back out again for a funeral. Seeing as my only means of support is a gig at 7 Eleven, and with the amount of time being taken off severely cutting down that support to afford rent and toilet paper, we've been thinking that my job status is up for revision again. It's a possibility, and probably an immanent reality (as in this week), that we'll be moving to DC for a little while to support my family and find jobs in a place that we want to be. Preferably where you are.
And that kind of sucks. We love our little apartment and are racking our brains with ways to return all of our most precious belongings (which by this point we've narrowed down to just Georgie Fruit and our mattress) back to Visalia.
That said, we still love Portland. We miss you guys. A lot. We want all of us to live in the same apartment building and be best friends. Please pray that we can make that a reality, or at least make a good home for ourselves in a decent place. And for my mom. Things are hard.
If you didn't know, a few years ago my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I actually came back during college to kind of hold down the fort until it seemed like the coast was clear, or at least until Beth and I got to talking and I decided it was time to get back to California.
Over the past few months my mom's progress was declining, and although she managed to get to the beach this summer with some friends, over the past week her condition has suddenly worsened.
The general consensus is that the cancer has spread to her brain. Her speech is very slurred, eyes very droopy, and her overall presence is very thin. She often wonders why my dad is giving her two pills, when in fact she's only seeing double.
A few nights ago she complained to my sister about a woman in a red sweater sitting next to her. When my sister asked whether the sweater was too red or too bright my mother simply stated that it was 102 degrees in DC and there's no need for one. She then concluded, "and of course, she isn't real is she?" The woman in fact, wasn't. Apparently hallucinations are part of the mix now too.
I'm not sure how many days she has left. It just doesn't seem quite right (and we can't really afford) to fly out here to D.C. now, head back later, and then come back out again for a funeral. Seeing as my only means of support is a gig at 7 Eleven, and with the amount of time being taken off severely cutting down that support to afford rent and toilet paper, we've been thinking that my job status is up for revision again. It's a possibility, and probably an immanent reality (as in this week), that we'll be moving to DC for a little while to support my family and find jobs in a place that we want to be. Preferably where you are.
And that kind of sucks. We love our little apartment and are racking our brains with ways to return all of our most precious belongings (which by this point we've narrowed down to just Georgie Fruit and our mattress) back to Visalia.
That said, we still love Portland. We miss you guys. A lot. We want all of us to live in the same apartment building and be best friends. Please pray that we can make that a reality, or at least make a good home for ourselves in a decent place. And for my mom. Things are hard.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
23 It Is Then
As it turns out, I've just turned twenty three years old. A lot has changed over the past year. I have been wedded, graduated from college, moved to Portland, and unexpectedly started my career as an employee at 7 Eleven. What more could I ever ask for?
This year Beth and I celebrated the occasion by having lunch with her half-brother (which would be my half-brother-in-law) John, which somehow turned into an all day and over-night celebration. Freshly released from his visit to the MRI machine John was pleased to treat us to lunch, dinner, and numerous birthday drinks, which for reasons beyond me I just couldn't turn down. It just felt like saying no would be the equivalent of being handed a birthday gift, immediately burning it, and then promptly placing the ashes into my cat Georgie Fruit's litter box.
I must say, the man makes for a great tour guide. As he accompanied us to the Lotus Card Room and Cafe we were treated to some of the seedy history of Portland. The one hundred thousand dollar appraised bar was once part of the city's most unprecedented brothels, which for Portland is probably saying something. Quite fittingly, John insisted I have a drink that involved being set on fire, something along the lines of a flaming Dr. Pepper.
As he continued to buy us drinks it became apparent that the three of us would be together for quite sometime, which was fun, yet, oddly confusing to me for some reason. I was somehow still very sober on the drive home, yet was surprised by John's ability to be a very convincing backseat drunk-driver. Since he's a native Portlander by this point, I began following his directions back to my apartment until I realized we were heading much further west towards his home out of the city. After I turned us around I got us back on track, but not until I turned down his additional directions towards another Portland landmark.
At some point you have to come to the realization that the party should have ended several hours ago, and that point arrived somewhere around three o'clock in the morning when I had to fold out the hide-away bed for John to sleep on. Yes, I did have fun, but I have to admit I kind of wanted the the birthday to end, well, without everyone else passed out and myself checking my email on the computer.
Last night was the fourth of July and I managed at work to discover a hatch that lead to the roof of the 7 Eleven. I got to see the fireworks exploding over Vancouver.
I'm still thinking that this will be a good year.
This year Beth and I celebrated the occasion by having lunch with her half-brother (which would be my half-brother-in-law) John, which somehow turned into an all day and over-night celebration. Freshly released from his visit to the MRI machine John was pleased to treat us to lunch, dinner, and numerous birthday drinks, which for reasons beyond me I just couldn't turn down. It just felt like saying no would be the equivalent of being handed a birthday gift, immediately burning it, and then promptly placing the ashes into my cat Georgie Fruit's litter box.
I must say, the man makes for a great tour guide. As he accompanied us to the Lotus Card Room and Cafe we were treated to some of the seedy history of Portland. The one hundred thousand dollar appraised bar was once part of the city's most unprecedented brothels, which for Portland is probably saying something. Quite fittingly, John insisted I have a drink that involved being set on fire, something along the lines of a flaming Dr. Pepper.
As he continued to buy us drinks it became apparent that the three of us would be together for quite sometime, which was fun, yet, oddly confusing to me for some reason. I was somehow still very sober on the drive home, yet was surprised by John's ability to be a very convincing backseat drunk-driver. Since he's a native Portlander by this point, I began following his directions back to my apartment until I realized we were heading much further west towards his home out of the city. After I turned us around I got us back on track, but not until I turned down his additional directions towards another Portland landmark.
At some point you have to come to the realization that the party should have ended several hours ago, and that point arrived somewhere around three o'clock in the morning when I had to fold out the hide-away bed for John to sleep on. Yes, I did have fun, but I have to admit I kind of wanted the the birthday to end, well, without everyone else passed out and myself checking my email on the computer.
Last night was the fourth of July and I managed at work to discover a hatch that lead to the roof of the 7 Eleven. I got to see the fireworks exploding over Vancouver.
I'm still thinking that this will be a good year.
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