How I Know There's Ice Cream In Heaven

This past week, I was reminded again how quickly life can change. I'm starting this post from Virginia, hundreds of miles away from my home, and a place I never expected to be this week. My plans for this week included working part time, lunch with a friend, and possibly driving up to Snow Creek to ski. Monday night, however, we got a phone call that made that all disappear.

My mom answered the phone last Monday night with the news that her uncle had collapsed and was without a pulse. We had been watching Full House and we sat with the TV on silent as we waited for another phone call to update us. Turning the TV up didn't seem right, but turning it off didn't either - almost like we were frozen in time.

Two days later, early Wednesday morning, we were sitting in KCI waiting to board at 6:45 a.m. headed towards Dulles to get to a grieving family - a family we hadn't seen in over a year. After two plane rides, one layover, and eight long hours, we arrived at a household full of food and a teary eyed family. I have flown so many times in my life - at least once a year for various trips we had taken as a family, but I had never flown in the winter, and Mother Nature didn't hesitate to remind me that this trip was vastly different from those before it. Walking down a jetway in single digit temperatures, not seeing the sunshine in more than a week, and having to wait on them to 'de-ice the wings' (yeah, sounds really comforting, right) gave us consistent reminders of where we were going.

The two deaths that I had the best memory of were both under the age of 18 and people that I was close to - I remembered the seemingly unbearable pain that comes with dealing with each separate aspect of loss, and I knew I wasn't ready to watch my family go through it. I wasn't sure how to help, how to act, or how to be. Little did I know, it would mostly be them teaching me.

I'm now sitting back in Kansas finishing this post. 1100 miles away from the family I spent all week with, realizing that although I still have a week before going back to school, my family goes back to the 'real world' tomorrow morning. Although I knew that arriving in Virginia would be hard, and dealing with each of the things that came with the week would be hard, I guess I didn't think about the fact that we had to go home eventually. As I'm sitting here reflecting on the whirlwind of the last week, I don't think I've ever been more thankful for my family and all the things they've taught me.

I'm thankful for a family who made having 30 people in one house for an entire week enjoyable. I'm thankful for the friends and neighbors who dropped off plate after plate of food, (the little kids - and maybe Chris and Eric too - would put their two cents in for the plate of chicken nuggets that came that was roughly the size of my bed) so we never had to worry about how to feed such a number of people at such odd times of day. I'm thankful for my mom, my aunt, and their cousins, who work so well together, read each other, and kept the house running this week - a true example of servanthood. I'm thankful for my younger cousins, whose consistent [high] energy level, curious questions, and genuine giggles kept the house going. I'm thankful for Josh (pausing for the smiles of my family reading this), the staff member from the funeral home who was assigned to our family, and who's genuine heart really helped our family - when we needed him, he always seemed to be there, whether we were looking for our coats, a kleenex, or a TV for the younger kids to watch - but when we needed our space, he seemed to disappear into the woodwork. Phrases of "I just love Josh." would be heard through the house for days to come.

Although I was definitely not excited to go and endure such a tough week, (who would be?) coming home was definitely the hardest part. The freezing temperatures and blowing snow only made our tearful goodbyes worse last night while we were packing to head to the airport. However, I am so incredibly thankful for the relationships and values that have been instilled in my aunts, uncles, an cousins that make our time together so worthwhile and our relationships truly more than just 'extended family.' Coming home, and even going our separate ways once we hit Kansas, I know that because of my family's example I will be looking out for those around me, hugging a little tighter, and of course, eating just a little bit more ice cream - and maybe licking the bowl, too.

Road Work Ahead

When I look back over the last few years, a great deal of my favorite memories are all kept during the last week of my senior year of high school. During that week, our senior class had a tailgate breakfast in the school parking lot before school on our last day, and we also had "alternative modes of transportation day" where I rode my bike to school with about 20 other kids from a friend's house. (Which was surprisingly more difficult than I predicted.) I have fond memories of police stopping traffic to get us across Topeka Blvd, knowing this would be the only time I would ever ride my bike for any such distance.

These are two of my favorite pictures I have from graduation week. They display perfectly the carefree attitudes, the excitement about new beginnings, and most importantly, the closeness that our class always had. Another photo taken that day was this one: 

This photo would prove to mean more to me than I ever thought it would. Although that orange sign was probably one of thousands seen around Topeka during the summer (otherwise known as 'road work season'), that one now seems symbolic of the loss of a classmate and close friend we would face exactly a week and two days after this photo was taken. 

Tonight I had dinner with one of my best friends from high school. After that loss, we didn't talk much - it seemed as though no one, including my close friends in my same situation, knew how to handle the situation, or even each other. We went almost a year and a half into college without truly 'catching up.' In high school, we bonded over similar dislike of a certain teacher, homework we could only figure out together, and our Friday night bonfires at the lake or pickup games of baseball. Now, she was playing college soccer and I was at a larger university and involved in entirely different things. It seemed like the only thing we had in common was our grief, and there wasn't much to talk about. 

One night last summer she came over and we talked about all the things it seemed like we had missed out on over the last two years - the professors, dates, our favorite places to go out in our respective towns, new friends, living on our own, and a little bit of reminiscing here and there too. We talked, for the first time, about our own experiences with loss and how it affects us now.

Tonight at dinner, a passerby probably wouldn't have known whether we were juniors in college or juniors in high school - We ordered the same enchiladas with cheese sauce and split queso at the best Mexican restaurant in Topeka that neither of us had been to since senior year. After, we wandered around Wal-Mart just looking for trouble, and as usual, ended up playing with the toys instead. As usual, Mal drove and I manned the iPod. When we talk about school, Mal will always be better at math and science, but I'll probably always have to edit any paper she ever writes. As expected, she likes the math classes, and I'm going into the health field. As usual, both of us weren't bothered by the children running and screaming by our table in the restaurant but were ready to offer them some salsa instead. 

At a time in my life when I feel like things are changing faster than I can blink, I'm thankful for nights with a friend where it seems like nothing's changed - especially the fact that she will always be there to eat queso with me, give me advice, and remind me that no road work lasts forever.