Where are you Christmas??

I need to get something off my chest, to whine and rant…
All of my life I have had battles with depression, and I have one a few with out medication or counseling. The last Christmas that I had a problem with was right after my Grandmother has a stroke a few years ago; and before that one it was when My Grandfather (on my Mom’s side) was dying of cancer.

This Christmas will be the first with out Grand Donald (on my Dad’s side); we are loosing my Grandmother’s house (she bought it the year I was born); several people from the cystic forums have been sick and we have lost some too. I am still not feeling well; I don’t think I have felt good in a while. Maybe a day or two here and there; but this year has been an eye opener for me. I don’t think my life is worthless or anything and I am not suicidal, but I just can’t get myself out of this funk.

Now Christmas is coming and we are broke; my usual answer to this would be “so what we have each other”. This year…I can’t seem to get it out. It seems to get caught in my throat. I don’t want to be around people, well truthfully I do…I just don’t feel like I’m good company. I have to prepare myself, go over conversation ideas in my head…normal stuff I would have talked about before all of this crap.

On Thursday I go in for my second EGD, and I’m having a difficult time finding someone who wants to go with me. I guess I can understand; who wants to take off work to sit in a waiting room all afternoon and then help a sedated Chrissy into the car? My Dad said he’d take me; but he had a cow when I asked him about it. I need someone who can come back to recovery and listen to what the doctor says because it might be important. So I’m a little concerned about it. Wednesday my piano is being moved from my Grandmothers house to mine. My Aunt is helping to cover the cost, and the rest of the money is coming from our Christmas cash. Frank and Kate knew I’d be devastated if I lost the piano and both thought this was worth it. I love them so much.

The cold hard truth...

So tonight I was writing an email to my Aunt Wanda to kinda give her a quick update on my family and stuff. Told her about Kate wearing a size 8 shoe, being 13 and already an inch taller than me, and the parental rights termination hearing....when I realized for the first time...

My Grandmother will not be at the adoption hearing. She won't be able to tell the judge that I am a good mom, that I have been a good mom since day 1...she'll only get to look at pictures. This is something she wanted to see so badly. She and my Grandfather. He passed away earlier this year and I came to terms with the idea that he would never see it. But I had somehow managed to *not* think about how much it meant to me that she wanted to be there; to see it.

So tonight, because this is all I can think about. Because I can't stop crying, and because I love them all I will share a secret. I know what suffering is. It's not what you think...it isn't what I thought...

My Mom's Mom, Grandma--she passed away in 1995. Pre-Kate...I know had she gotten to meet Kate she would have loved her.
My Mom's Dad, Grandfather--passed away when Kate was younger. He and Kate got along great. He started her collecting dolls and coins! Back then we had no idea how badly things would go down hill with Kate's birthmother. I had always wanted to adopt Kate, but her BM was in the picture back then...trying to be Kate's mom...just not trying very hard...
My Dad's Dad, GrandDaddy--I never met him. He died in a plan crash when my dad was a boy. I often wonder if he'd be proud of me, if he would approve of Frank...but I *know* he would have loved Kate.
My Dad's Step Father--GrandDonald--He adored Kate! He was tickled when he heard about the plan for adoption. I only wish this was done sooner for his sake...Kate was devistated when he passed. She missed a whole week of school and we just couldn't believe he was gone. Some days I forget.
My Dad's Mom, Grandmommy--The only Great Grandmother on my side that Kate got to meet. She had a massive stroke a few years ago....the adoption was going to be a surprise but we told her. We wanted her to have something to look forward to. But we know now that she is not coming home. She is paralyzed on her right side, she's unable to speak or eat...
Her husband GrandDonald passed while she was stuck in that nursing home...

You know when I found out about my CF and then about the mitochondrial mutations...when they told me the odds of making it to 4o...with my motor functions in tact...I cried and I couldn't understand why I was the sick one. Why I had to suffer...but life went on. I dealt with it. But when she had the stroke I learned what it was to truly suffer. It is watching someone you love suffer...to watch her try to move---to say something. Anything. Nothing. For the life of me I still can not figure out why this happened to her...

That is why from this night on...I will not cry for what CF or mitochondrial mutations will take from me, but for what they will take from every one I hold dear. Because I know how they feel watching me struggle.