Life Keeps Going

I worked the weekend so I got today off. It has been a difficult couple of weeks. On Monday, Oct 24th Grandma B had to go to the hospital again. That's something that has happened more in the last year than in my whole life. She was diagnosed with cancer last December - mulitple myeloma - and had been fighting it like crazy since. That's my Grammy. Tough as nails. Anywho, she'd been doing pretty well and responding to the chemo. But then about a month or so ago her kidneys failed so she had to go on dialysis.

Right. Back to that Monday. She went to the hospital and we found out that she had two brain aneurisms - one on each side - and there wasn't a whole lot the doctors could do. So she told Grandpa she wanted to go home and Uncle Jeff gave her a blessing releasing her to go home to her Father in Heaven. She spend Monday night surrounded by her family - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and of course Grandpa. Tuesday morning she was still lucid and talking and had more visitors and got phone calls from loved ones far away. By Tuesday evening when I made it to their house after work (about 5:30 or so) she was not awake or talking and hadn't been for several hours. I got to say my goodbyes and I love yous and she died early the next morning. The doctors had given her about 2 weeks, but she obviously had other plans.

I can't express right now how much grief I feel and how broken my heart is. I have loved her so very much. She has been a strength and an anchor to me. She taught me so many things about being a woman. I miss her so much.

We had her viewing at Wood Funeral Home on Ridge in Idaho Falls the evening of Sunday, Oct 30th and her funeral was held at the Grant LDS Church Building on Monday, Oct 31st. She was laid to rest in the Grant Cemetery on a cold, crisp, bright Halloween morning. Though others of the family took roses from the flower arrangement on top of her simple pinewood casket, I took a sprig of bluebells because they reminded me more of her than anything else.

Grandpa is doing quite well, all things considered. He told his children that Grandma had sacrificed her life so that he would get better. A couple of years ago his health was quite poor and we didn't think he'd be with us too much longer. He didn't get around very much at all and had to be on oxygen all the time. And then his sweetheart got sick and he stepped it up to take care of her. He's gotten stronger and is able to sometimes walk around without a walker or canes. He only has to be on oxygen at night. He's lost a lot of weight and is exercising more. He's so much stronger and healthier. He's even able to fit into his 'skinny pants' - a pair he said he hadn't been able to fit for a long time.

On the day of the viewing he was with one of my aunts and as they were doing whatever they were doing he suddenly said, 'She did it again!" My aunt asked what she (Grandma) did. Grandpa said, "She made me do something I didn't want to do." Meaning she had made him get better when he had said many times that he just wanted to die. So now he has said that he's not going to waste her sacrifice. He's decided to learn how to do indexing for the Church genealogy on his computer at home - he and Grandma had done extracting work with microfiche years ago. He talked to his old home teaching companion and asked him if he would like a partner again. He is determined to live his life as much as he can in the time he has left. He told me his father passed away at 85 and he wants to at least make it that long, too - he turned 83 last July.

I visited him last Saturday and he was in fairly good spirits. He talked about Grandma a bit and said he'd been reading her diaries. I asked him how they'd met and he wasn't specific but said he saw her riding a horse and it was love at first sight. There was a picture of the two of them in the slideshow from her viewing where they were very young, sitting on a crescent moon. I asked if that was a dance they'd gone to and he told me no, it was at the fair. It was taken the night that "one of us proposed to the other". Grandpa said he always thought she had proposed to him, but she always said it was the other way around.

He talked about a part in her diary when she wrote about the first time he kissed her. He said that he found out that she had felt the same way he did when he'd done it. He then said she wrote that she had wanted him to kiss her when he took her home, but he didn't. He told us if he'd  known that he would have done it! The whole time he was talking about it he was grinning and laughing - almost giggling, I swear! It's something I hope I'll never forget.

We talked about how they'd been together for 63 years - literally. He was a farmer and she was a housewife. The only time they'd spent apart was a week or so when she was staying with and helping her sister Beth who had broken her arm and maybe about the same amount of time when she came to Wyoming for my sister's birth. On the first occasion he said after the week he called her and asked when she was coming home. On the second occasion he said he went and got her because he couldn't stand to be away from her.

He also talked about how active she'd always been. He read an entry where she'd been helping the neighbor, Mrs Kilpack, with a quilt and lost track of time. When she did ask Mrs Kilpack what time it was and found out it was 6:30 she said, "Oh, I've got to go! I have a ball game I've got to play at!" And she did. Grandpa said she was 46 or 47 at the time. He talked about how on their mission in Canada she'd run races with the young elders and often beat them. They'd also have weekly volleyball games with the 'Lamanites' (as he called them) and it embarrassed him that they'd always pick her for their teams before they'd pick him! They were in their mid-fifties on this mission.

Another thing he mentioned from her diaries is that she always remembered the special occasions of every member of her famly - she'd note when it was someone's birthday or annversary and she never forgot. He said it was hard for her to go on their two missions and she didn't want to do it because she missed her children. They almost went on a third mission - the Bishop was ready to get it all set up and everything. Grandpa said they were sitting in the Bishop's office and he asked if they were going to go. Grandpa looked at Grandma and she shook her head at him and he said no. He told us she'd sacrificed enough for him and he wasn't going to make her do it again.

He also told us how she refused to move away from their little farm. He said once he'd found some nice ground down in Firth and asked her if she was ready to move. Her response was, "You can move if you want to but I'm staying here." So they stayed. Aunt Patricia said it was probably because when she was a girl growing up her family moved all the time. Sometimes to a house a block or two away from where they'd been, or maybe down the street. And she'd absolutely hated it. Patricia said that though Grandma had said she'd never marry a 'dumb farmer' (famous last words) that is exactly who she needed because a farmer would have to stay put - that is how they made their livlihood after all.

I can't write anymore. There is still more to say, but I just can't do it right now. Yesterday I was foolish enough to look at the pictures from the slideshow from her viewing and saw one where she was "striking a pose" with a fuzzy knitted hat my mom had made her on top of her head. It was a close-up of her face and she had a bit of a grin and more than a hint of silly mischief in her eyes. And I lost it. Right there at my desk at work. I started sobbing. Because it really hit me that she's gone and I'm not going to see her again in this life. I've done pretty well at locking up the grief for the most part, but that picture set it all free. I miss her now and I will miss her for a long time. It breaks my heart that, although I'm sure she'll be there, I won't see her at my wedding one day. I won't see her holding any babies I might have. I won't get to talk and laugh with her and share special moments with her. Not in this life. She is truly gone.

I know she wasn't perfect, but she was everything I needed her to be. I always felt her love and felt special with her - even when I was a smelly, awkward child and was pretty sure no one liked me. Even when everyone else left me alone and hurt my feelings and made me feel small, she never did. I always knew I was cherished by her. No matter what.

One of my earlies memories is of sitting next to her in church (a very coveted position, let me tell you) and wishing I could read so that I could sing the hymns with her. As, according to my mother, I learned to read at the age of 3, this had to have been a very early memory. And one of the last memories I have of her is sitting on the front steps of her house in the summer sunshine, watching Grandpa putter in the garden, and just talking. Hearing her say Grandpa was never happier than when he was 'playing in the dirt'. Watching her get choked up about how much she loved her family - every single one of her posterity - and how each and every one of them is a good person. She has always been an amazing person and I've been so blessed to have her in my life.

I love you, Grandma, and I miss you so very much.

In loving memory of Lorna Mae Wadsworth Butikofer

October 8, 1930 - October 26, 2011



Realization

I have come to a realization today. I am on my way to becoming Aunt Imogen from the new Alice in Wonderland. For those of you that aren't familiar with the movie, Aunt Imogen is the crazy spinster auntie that believes she's engaged to a prince that can't marry her because he'd have to renounce his throne. "Tragic, isn't it?" she says to Alice when she reveals the secret.

Well, I'm becoming her. For some time I've been living at least a portion of my life in some fantasy land, believing that one day Prince Charming would come along to sweep me off my feet and make my life all better. My Cinderella existence would end and I would be transformed into a beautiful, happy Princess. 

But it's not going to happen. There is no Prince Charming coming to save me. I am on my own and the only person in this world that is capable of making a difference in my life is me.

Notice how I said the only person on this earth. I know without a doubt that God is saving me every moment of every day. I know that the Savior died in order to help me become everything that I can. I depend on them. I couldn't make it without them.

As for the rest of the world, though, I'm the only one that can save me. And I can't continue dreaming and pretending that there's anyone else that can - or would want to, for that matter. I have to make my own happiness, find my own joy, because no one else is going to do it for me.

It's been nice to have somewhere to escape to, a place where my problems are not my own fault. I have cultivated that place and made it very comfortable and welcoming. But I can't hide anymore from the responsibility I hold to act for myself.

I'm tired. I am tired of being alone. And I'm coming to see more and more - despite my pleading, praying, and hoping that I'm wrong - how it's my own darn fault.

And so. What to do. Honestly, I'm not sure. But at least now I know I need to do something. I'm going to try my best not to hide anymore.

Vindicated

I love this song, and it's really been resonating in my life of late. Most people I talk to associate it with Spiderman, but I never have. I heard it before I ever saw the movie. The reason I love it is because the lyrics are interesting and really make you think - my kind of thing being the word nerd that I am. The message, for me anyway, is more about life in general and how we're all just trying to do and be better.

Today was a good day for me. I decided this morning that I needed to play hooky from work. I tried to talk myself out of it, but my heart just wouldn't let me. No matter what I told myself, it just didn't work. I needed to take a 'me' day.

Part of it was because I had a thing or two that I needed to get done - pay on my car loan, get the oil changed in my car, buy a new pair of pants... The other part was that I didn't get much sleep last night. I kept waking up and couldn't fall back to sleep and just didn't feel rested when I got up. So I called in sick.

I started my day by taking the Goob to work. She hadn't been able to sleep last night either and had taken herself into town at 2:30 AM to deposit some money in her over-drawn bank account (via the ATM, of course). Well, on the way back she lost the serpentine belt on her van and it kept overheating. Between that and the icy roads, she had quite the time getting home. In the end she got most of the way home but couldn't quite make it, so Dad had to tow her up to the house.

After that I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I was feeling too restless to go back to sleep, so I picked up the book I've been reading. It's from the Sword of Truth series that a friend of mine started me on. I'm on book four, and I'm still hooked. It's one suspenseful event after another, with deep philosophical conversations interspersed. I could only read that for so long before I had to put it down. My heart can only take so much!

I then decided to watch a movie. I was browsing my Netflix streaming queue on my PS3, trying to decide what I wanted to watch. It was not easy. I ended up choosing The Last Song - a movie based on the Nicholas Sparks book with Miley Sirus in it. Those two things made me feel pretty certain that I wouldn't like it. Don't get me wrong, Nicholas Sparks has some pretty good stuff. Cheesy, but ok. I'm just not usually in the mood for it. Well, I was pleasantly surprised in this instance. And it wasn't the love story that caught my attention, but the relationship that the father had with his children. I cried when they found out he was sick and when he died. (Sorry if I'm spoiling it for someone... it is Nicholas Sparks, though, what do you expect?) I kept thinking that I wished I had a father like that. And that if I ever do get married, I'd want my husband to be a father like that.

Once I finished the movie I got dressed, put myself together, and went to run my errands. I was thinking also that I might stop by the house of a friend of mine to see if they wanted to catch a movie. This being their day off I felt like I might be intruding to do so, so I was feeling rather hesitant. I was driving in my car down Yellowstone Highway, trying to decide whether to get the oil changed first or go shopping when I had the distinct impression to go to my friend's house first.

So I did. And it was a good thing, too. When I got there my friend's roommate opened the door and informed me that said friend was sleeping. Normally I would leave it at that and just have roommie tell them I'd stopped by. But something told me I needed to keep going. I went in and knocked on their bedroom door a few times. The look of surprise on Friend's face was priceless. They had thought it was roommie coming to bug them. I invited Friend to the movie and went to run my errands while they got ready.

The oil change was quick and rather painless - except that I hadn't brought enough oil for my car (my Dad makes me bring my own oil, he's a bit of a motor oil snob...) so I had to go to WalMart to get another quart of it (oil change guys didn't want to mix the oils and they didn't have my kind there). I then went to Ross to look for new pants. Normally I've been very successful in such an endeavor at Ross, but today I wasn't so lucky. They only had jeans with fleurs de lis on the butt pockets or old lady britches... Not so worky for me... I did, however, end up getting a pair of leggings, a shirt that wasn't black or gray (I'm trying to incorporate more color into my wardrobe), a pretty black sweater, and a cute new dress. I was disappointed not to find what I was looking for, but content with what I found.

I then went back to Friend's house and we went to the Paramount to watch Megamind. I know, you're shocked, I hadn't seen it before! Please don't hate me. I've seen it now, and I loved it. Friend and I both thought it was hilarious. We walked out of the theatre quoting lines and laughing to ourselves. Good times. We then went to Target so I could buy some socks that I had seen there earlier (thanks Shelle!). One of the pairs was even argyle - joy!

We then headed back to Friend's house. Friend walked me to my car, us chatting the whole way, and we hugged goodbye - then proceeded to chit chat with me sitting in the car and Friend holding the door open. Finally I told Friend to get in the car and talk to me, and we continued to carry on a really good conversation. Friend has been having roommate difficulties and feeling really frustrated about their situation (hence the identity-protecting measures - I know you were wondering...). It was really good to talk and commiserate about life and even share testimonies about gospel truths. Luckily the Goob got a ride home from work from Dad (who had kindly gotten her a new belt for her car and put it on, getting her up and running again), so I didn't need to worry about cutting the talk short. I think we both needed it.

Well, time was short and Friend needed to go so we once again hugged goodbye - this time for reals - and I drove off into the sunset. Except that you couldn't see the sunset through all of the big fat SNOWFLAKES that were falling. I was feeling pretty disgruntled, let me just tell you. I'm so ready for Spring!!! Want it! Like, yesterday! But then I let myself pause, and let the Spirit that had been permeating the atmosphere of my car sink deeper into my heart, and I noticed something. The snow was beautiful. Granted, I didn't like that it was getting on the road and that it will likely make my drive to work tomorrow rather unpleasant, but it really was beautiful. Big, fat, lazy flakes drifting gently to the ground. Surprisingly, there wasn't a wind pushing them to change direction. Just frozen crystallized raindrops and the air. Lovely.

It reminded me of a time at BYU when I was sitting in the JFSB (the Humanities building on campus) and it started to snow. If you were to look at the building from above it would resemble a hollow square and the windows I was sitting next to were facing the central courtyard. Well, on this particular day the snowflakes were big, fat, lazy ones as well. The most entrancing thing, though, was that because of the shape of the building and the courtyard there was an updraft that was causing those snowflakes to shoot up in the air - much like packing peanuts being blown into the air by a leaf blower. It was amazing. I wish that I could replay it for you so that you could see how beautiful and mesmerizing it was. It made me think about how much God loves us to put something so beautiful and amazing in the world for us to see if we just open our eyes and look. I had the same feeling today.

That's pretty much it so far. I got home and talked to Goob for a bit before she had to leave for her performance tonight. She's in the Pirates of Penzance at the local community theatre. I texted Shelle for a bit and then decided to post. I might add, also, that I typed most of this with Ipiki snuggled under my arm, sleeping on my wrist. I know, I'm talented.

Just a final word to kind of tie things together. Life can be so beautiful if you let it be. If you look for the special things that God has put on this earth just for you - because he really has done that - life can be a wonderful place to exist. It's hard to see it sometimes, especially when you feel weighed down by stress and trials. But it's always there for those times you when you can open your eyes to see it, open your heart to feel it, and really let yourself take it in. I'm glad that I got to have today to do that. To let the light shine (even when it was snowing) and feel the beauty and peace all around me. God is so good to me. I am so blessed, even if I don't always let myself realize it. I already have so much to be grateful for, and I've still got plenty ahead of me. And so I say, to the good and the bad, bring it on.

January 45th - S.A.D.

It's that time of year again. Yes, ladies and gentlemen (not that I really believe there are any males of the species reading this...) it's flowery, hearty, smoochy, kissy, freaking February. 

I hate to be one of the haters, but this month has a bad effect (affect?) on me. For all of you love-birds that enjoy this month and all that it entails, I say good for you. Love it up. That's what it's for, right? As for me and my house... errr... blog?... I shall serve the dark side.

I suppose that if I had someone to cuddle up to I might enjoy this stuff more. But it has been my under-privilege to have never shared one of the holidays of this particular period of time (that shall remain nameless) with a significant other. In past years I didn't mind it all so much. But as time has moved on I have become less and less tolerant. It has been some years now that this month - save two days only - has ceased to exist. I have adopted the practice of a former roommate and dubbed it an extension of January.

(For those that are curious, the only two days in the mythic month of February for me are the 13th - the Goob's b-day - and possibly the 23rd - my brother's b-day - (possibly because I don't know that he'd care all that much))

So, here it is January 41st and the blessed holiday approacheth... That's right! January 45th, Single Awareness Day! People can try and say that it's not just a day to celebrate romantic love, but love in general. I say phooey! Just look at the conversation hearts... As far as I'm concerned it's the time of the year that I am forced to remember just how single I am.

It is at this point in the post that I would like to clarify. I am attempting to be silly and amusing, so for those of you that are taking this seriously, here is your grain of salt. You're welcome.

To continue on a more serious note (seriously now...) I don't really mind it all that much still. It can be difficult at times because I get to see so much of what I really, really want in my life. Although my mother would probably be shocked, I do want very much to find the right man and fall in love. It's just a whole lot harder than the movies make it out to be. I think we've all had times where we've wanted something so badly that we'd give almost anything to get it. Well, this is my deepest desire. And it's just not happening.

I suppose I could rail against God or fate or something, but I think that it would all end up coming back to my doorstep in the end. My dreams will come true when they're ready to, meaning when I'm really ready for them to, and not a second sooner. It's the patience and the waiting that's the hard part sometimes. And it can be so hard to want to hope, because that means that you also have to wait instead of just getting on with things already and that can hurt so much.

Being a good little LDS girl, I believed every word in Young Women's when they told me that I'd graduate from high school at 18 and then get married and have a family. I was roaring and ready to go at 18, heading off to Rexburg to find my glorious future. Well, we can all see how that turned out...

I thank God that He had different plans for me and let me learn the things I have, and grow and develop in the way that I needed, so that I could be better prepared to live my life happily ever after. As much as I wanted it, I was definitely not ready to be a wife at 18. And I would have missed out on so many things that I really, truly needed in order to really, truly be me. I decided a few years ago that I might, maybe, be able to jump into that deep end of the pool that I would have drowned in almost 13 years ago. Maybe.

As it stands, I'm still waiting and trying not to hope too hard. I would love it if I could have a man that adores me tell me how thankful he is that I was born when my 30th birthday rolls around this year. It would be wonderful, I think, not to have to be searching for that special someone anymore. I believe that I'll really, really like it when I have a companion to share my life with. But I'll still be okay if I turn 31 and it hasn't happened yet. It just means that I have more work to do in my single state.

I know that God knows best. As freaking hard and painful and heart-wrenching and frustrating and discouraging and - I really could go on with adjectives, but I think I'll stop - as it can be, I know that it's going to work out for the best for me in the long run.

So Happy Holiday of This Month to all, whether it be the V-word (no, not that one!!) or S.A.D., try to make it a celebration of something.

PS - Teri, I know you're so proud!! Twice in one week! I'm on a roll! :)

This is dedicated to the one I love...

Namely, my cousin Teri. Since you made it my New Years resolution to post a blog...  here's lookin' at you kid. :)

So, what have I been up to? Honestly, not a whole lot. Sorry!  I've been going to work, going to church, and in my spare time watching movies on Netflix. For kicks I still watch my niece and nephew with the assistance of my dearly beloved sisty ugler Goob.

I do have moments though, that make me pause and smile - or cringe - and I wrote down a few of them as a reminder for something to post.

So, in no particular order, my thoughts:

The first one that I can think of is about my cat, Ipiki. He is such a brilliant, conniving little monster - and yet so freaking adorable at times that you can't help but love him.  He hates it when Goob and I leave him alone. He'll have plenty of food and water, we make sure that someone checks the fireplace so that he stays nice and warm in our basement home, but still he gets mad at us.

One particular instance was when Goob and I babysat and stayed the night at our brother's house. We came back the next day after work and Ipiki would not be consoled. He yowled without end at first and no matter how many times we picked him up, or petted him, or tried to watch him eat his food (one of his idiosyncrasies) he would not stop. Eventually we just gave up and left him to himself. After a little bit he calmed down a touch and just wandered around muttering to himself.  Finally, after about fifteen or twenty minutes he came to me and jumped on my lap to be petted and loved. Silly cat...

 Piki the poo-bomber...

Much later that same day, right before I was going to hop in my bed, I made a discovery... No, I didn't find any hidden poo-bombs from the cat (although that is not unheard of - often he strategically places them for us to step in...). In fact, it had nothing to do with the cat. I discovered all of my clean laundry piled on my bed. Sigh!! So, even though I was dead tired and ready to drop, I took the time to fold up my clothing and put it all away.  In doing so I had a profound insight. Between finding shirts and pants to fold I'd also come upon the random sock here and there, as is common in laundry folding. Often I'd have to set it aside until I could find a partner for it. Sometimes I found two of the same kind together. And then there were the specialty socks that took to the bottom of the pile to get matched up. And here's where the insight came...

I had the thought that sorting socks is a lot like dating/marriage.  There are those socks, white or black, that you get in a 12 pack that will pretty much go with any one of the others that it came with. There are a whole lot of options and it usually doesn't take too long for a match to be found. While occasionally it might take a little while to get them all put together, usually it's a pretty quick process.  Some of the socks, though, have to wait a little while. Especially as the laundry to sort gets sparser and you have to really dig to find the socks. And even then, sometimes the match to the sock seems to have disappeared completely - fallen by the wayside or eaten by the drier - never to be found again. Until, of course, one of the other pairs loses its mate and voila! you've made a match. Then we get to the specialty socks. There's no easy fit for these babies. It takes time and you have to find exactly the right one that matches - you can't put the gray snowman socks with red poinsettia leaves with just anything... And if the pair to this one gets lost, you're pretty much SOL and just have to chuck it. But of course, sometimes you get a mismatched pair that you just wear out of desperation. They might have nothing at all in common, but you wear them anyway.

This is life - the 18-year-olds that get married right away, the ones that have to wait a little while to find the right one, the ones that have lost and then have found, the ones that never get to have their mate, the specialties that either get it or they don't, and the mismatched that sometimes work and sometimes should never see the light of day.

So which one am I? I'd rather not speculate...

Another funny thing that happened while I was sorting laundry... I was listening to my iPod, headphones in my ears, feeling the music flow. A song came on that I didn't want to listen to, but changing the song wasn't as easy as you would suppose. Why, you ask? Well, when I'm listening to the iPod and need my hands free I have a special place that I stow it - at least when I'm not in public. Yes, my friends, I put the freaking thing in my bra. It's handy and fortunately I'm endowed enough in that department that it won't fall out. :)  Well, I have one of those new-fangled iPod touch babies (courtesy of my above named, well-beloved Goob) that has this wonderful feature - you can shake it and it shuffles the song! While there have been times when I've found this inconvenient (mental image: "I love this song!!" jump up and down, jump up and down, song changes - grrr...) I particularly appreciated it at this moment. I just jumped up and down! Song = changed, life = happy, groove = on, keep folding.

I hope that this has assuaged the longing for those of you that have the longing to hear from me. I will do my best to keep the New Year's resolution made for me and be more consistent in my posts.

A la prochaine!!