After ten days in Chicago, I'm back in Germany. Two weeks ago, I packed up my son and some clothes to visit my grandmother, who had a stroke and is still in the hospital. She is not doing well. She had lots of bleeding in her brain, she can't speak and understands very little that is said to her. She seems to be thinking well, but can't communicate. Very little gets in or out.
When we left Chicago Sunday night, her spirit had visibly flagged and she was fighting off a touch of pneumonia. I haven't heard from my mom since our return to Germany, so no news is good news, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to call her, because the only time our schedules coincide, given the seven-hour time difference, is while she's getting ready for work. She'd stressed out enough as it is without having to field phone calls for me in such little spaces of time. I did e-mail her, but she hasn't even returned that.
It was disturbing to go home, knowing that it was to say goodbye to Grandma. She was in good health, thanks to a pacemaker put in last year, when Grandpa was dying. She was happy, and involved in her community, and had lots of friends. When we visited her in the hospital, it made us laugh to see her usual facial expressions that show her sense of humor. She was happy to see me, and fascinated by my son, who was two years old the last time she saw him.
Every time I visited her, I was in tears. I had to leave the room to compose myself, so she wouldn't see me cry. I don't think I fooled her.
My mom has been a real trooper, though. I have to admire her for her strength of character. Especially after having seen Grandpa through all of his strokes and eventual death. That went on for years, however. I can only imagine what she must be going through to be losing her mother now. At this time of my life, it would kill me to lose one of my parents. Not to mention both.
I don't know how to write about this. My thoughts are so disjointed.
But, in spite of my reason for returning home, it was wonderful being there. My parents' house is peaceful and loving. I told only three of my friends that I was home, because I didn't want to deal with phone calls and visits: the woman who used to cut my hair, who I adore; my best friend; and a dear mutual friend of ours. The reunions were pleasant and happy.
I brought very little back to Germany with me, except for a few products that can't be found here. I also bought hygiene supplies (soap, shampoo, deo, toothpaste, hair products) to leave at my mom's house, in anticipation of our relocation stateside, next spring. We don't know for sure that we'll be able to go back, but you can bet your bottom dollar that both Mom and I are banking on that eventuality. My best friend asked me what I would do if it didn't work out. I said, "Kill myself." I don't want to get my hopes up too high, because I might very well have to face disappointment, but I still can't stop hoping.
Lots have changes have happened in the rural area I left, six-and-a-half years ago. Lots of retail development, lots of the surrounding cornfields yielding to big housing developments. Property values have gone up as a result, which puts a damper on the likelihood of our buying a home in the area--but not on my enthusiasm to do so.
The trees in our yard have gotten so big, in the fours years since I'd last seen them. And the leaves were still red and orange when we arrived. In the forty-eight hours before we left, most of them had fallen off because it had gotten pretty windy. We don't get wind like that here, in Wildberg. I missed it.
So, we're in Germany again. My husband was glad to have us back, though even in that department things have gotten back to normal, which is not always pleasant. I'm discovering the Zen of fire-building, though rueing the maintenance factor, and the rapidity with which the fire's heat dissipates once the fire goes out. I'm able now to judge the atmospheric pressure according to how much I have to open or close the vents in the wood stove to keep the fire burning at maximum efficiency. Today, the pressure is dropping, which means we'll probably get rain. I don't know that for sure. It's still dark out, and all the shades are closed as I write this, but that's what the fire is telling me.
I've been up since 2:30 am, today. Jetlag. Still. Going east is always harder than going west. I seem to recall my mom and dad always getting up at that time when they've been here to visit. So, I've been up about five hours, now, dreading how sleeping I'm going to be in another five hours.
Jetlag sucks. But at least I got back to blogging because of it.
