Going home again...

PawPaw is very sick and it looks like the Rosenbergs are gathering around to share some memories and be with him (read: talk loudly and make crass jokes around him) while he finishes out his life. This has been a hard year for this clan, having already lost its matriarch, Grandma Rosey. I've been terribly proud at how devoted this family is to each other and their elder statespersons. The Rosenbergs aren't perfect (except me), but they know how to come together with a sense of grace (believe it or don't), humor, and kindness.

Rob and I will be flying into PA on Tuesday to share some time with PawPaw and to be there to support our parents and other family. Though I feel a lot of comfort knowing that I will be able to see PawPaw and my family, I am afraid that the considerable lump in my throat might turn into a bigger sense of sadness and loss once I get there. I said a kind of goodbye to Grandma when I was last home, but I think I will struggle with walking into their home this time, knowing that she is still not there and that PawPaw isn't there either. Saying goodbye and then flying away, without dealing with too many "firsts" without Grandma, is tough. I can easily always imagine her puttering around her kitchen, fussing over this and that, while I do what I do in my home far away.

The shell of my grandparents' life (the house, the knick-knacks and photos, the clothes, books, and mementos) have been with me forever and carry such massive memories. Like how it's hard to say exactly how the smell of crayons evokes feelings of being a kid, walking into my grandparents' home conjures up my emotional history of my family. I guess that I just made up "emotional history" and I mean a history not just of stories that can be verbally articulated, but of feelings one's had throughout the course of a life. Some places are chock-full of them and I'm not sure I am ready to go to this particular place. But I have to be. I don't know if I'll ever get back there the same way again.

I know that it will be hard on some level to see PawPaw, but I have a sense of peacefulness about that part. As long as he doesn't hurt and he is enjoying the company of his family, I think it's okay that he knows that he'll die soon. He'll have something that Grandma didn't, which is a time and space to consider where he's been and who he has raised and been a companion to. I hope I get to him while he can still recite a poem or 7 and tell a few jokes. This time I might not kick someone under the table and I'll laugh and be so grateful that, as one who sat at his table over and over again, I got to be driven crazy by his recitations. We have all been terribly lucky that way.

xoxoxo
kate