Something Came Up
December 25, 2008
First, I am pleased to announce that there is a winner for the second incarnation of the Creme contest. That person knows that she won (and therefore, if you entered but don’t know that you won, you must not be the winner), but I’m going to wait to tell you her identity until we settle on her prize. I meant to close the contest yesterday, but, uh, something came up.
It has been the weirdest couple of weeks. Seriously. Between almost a week of being outsted from my house thanks to the ice storm and blackout, and then upon our return almost two feet of snow in one weekend, and starting IVF #2, and all of the random other stumbling blocks like a fried water heater and a demolished laptop, DH and I are not going with the flow as well as usual.
And now, my grampa has died.
Selfishly Realistically, my very first thought upon hearing the news from my father was that if the timing of the funeral conflicts with the timing of IVF #2, I can’t go.
My second thought as my phone conversation with my father continued, as he described all sorts of emotions and memories about his father and then started crying, was that I didn’t have it in me to be as supportive as I should have been. Sometimes it comes easily, and sometimes I can muster it, but sometimes my emotional bank account is overdrawn. I am a fantastic wife and pretty good friend and unquestioningly devoted future mother, but I am a barely passable daughter much of the time. And that may be the best I can do right now.
And then I thought about how I barely knew my grampa, how infrequently I saw him throughout my childhood and how little of himself he revealed when I did see him. And I thought about how most of my cousins are probably sadder than I am, because most of them knew him better — though I think only a few actually knew him well.
I thought about the deaths of DH’s grandparents and how those affected me so much more, particularly his grandmother. How I’m on the verge of tears anytime I think about the great-grandchild that I couldn’t produce while she was still alive, even several years after her death, yet I have not shed a tear for my grampa.
I thought about the recent version of my grampa, an elderly man who had lost control of his physical capacities and many of his mental capacities. Going back a few years, the younger-but-still-elderly man who loved football and conservative talk radio (and sadly, that is the extent of my knowledge about his interests). The middle-aged grampa of my childhood, much younger than my parents are now, on whose lap I sat once every year or two. The handsome young man in the army uniform, whom I know only from photos.
Most of all, I thought about my loved ones who are far more affected by his passing than I am. My gramma, who loved him with all of her heart and who stood vigil next to his hospital bed every moment of the past week; my father, with his conflicted relationship with his father; my aunts and uncles; extended family that knew him so much better. Everyone for whom future Christmases will be reminders of a deep loss.
I don’t know when my grampa’s funeral will be, but if it occurs during IVF #2, I won’t go; I will have to say that something came up. But, if the funeral is scheduled during the 2WW (or later), I could go. But should I? Most people seem to say it’s okay to fly, but with past pregnancies not having stuck around, I’m uncertain about travel. I don’t actually think it would make a difference, but I also don’t like having something preventable to (falsely) blame if things don’t work out. Personally I don’t need to go to say goodbye to the dead, but it would be nice to go so that I can abide with the living.
What do you think, Internets: Would you fly to a funeral during the 2WW after IVF?