This past weekend on our latest girl's trip to Flagstaff, we visited Macy's on Beaver Street. After a glowing recommendation from Joe of Joe's Real BBQ/Joe's Farm Grill/Liberty Market fame, I finally got around to trying the world-traveling coffee connoisseur's favorite stateside coffee shop. I must say, it exceeded my expectations! If you ever find yourself in Flagstaff, don't miss Macy's. Not only is the cappuccino top-notch, the food is pretty tasty too. I had the granola with yogurt and fresh strawberries and bananas, a half order of the vegetarian biscuits and gravy, and a Cappuccino Royale, served in a giant cup with the most perfect milk foam I have ever seen. As a fellow barista, I have to admit that it may be a while before I master the art of milk foam the way the experts at Macy's have!
We also saw our favorite band ever, Stampead. It would be a crime to write a blog about Flagstaff and not give props to their amazing music. However, nothing I could ever write would do justice to Katie's description of our latest Stampead experience. If that's not love, I don't know what is.
There are no words to describe how much we all hate moving. Throw the middle of August in Arizona in the mix, and you have quite the debacle ahead of you. Sweaty hands that drop large furniture. A/C working overtime. Stairs. You know the drill. And we're about to embark on a 35-mile move from North Scottsdale to Ahwatukee this weekend.
I'm not gonna lie; I'm totally bummed out about this move. I thought I was prepared for it, but the truth is I'm in avoidance/denial mode. It's Tuesday night and we haven't even started packing- no, scratch that, I haven't started packing. I'm just not ready to turn our lovely apartment inside out and say goodbye to it. I'm a total sucker for being sentimental about stuff- it's tough for me to leave the place Cody and I called home as we began our marriage. But it's not just that- I LOVE our apartment- the layout, the location, the view. The view is amazing! We moved into this apartment a month and a half before my last lease was up just because of that view. And there's so much to do in this part of town. We found a church we loved and we had to say goodbye this past Sunday because it's much too far to attend when we're living that far south. Granted, we didn't get super involved in the ministry there because we knew we would be leaving. But we enjoyed the services and the FPU class we attended there.
I guess we never expected to leave so quickly after we got here. Sad face :(
However, in spite of all that we're leaving behind, we're doing this for far better reasons than any we may have to stay here. We're going to get out from under ALL of our monthly loan obligations... what an incredible relief that will be. We will be able to save money at a much faster rate than ever, and we will be able to put more money down on our future home when the time is really, truly right. And best of all, we will be closer to the family and friends that we love. As beautiful as Scottsdale is, we are so isolated from everyone here. So really, we are gaining much more than we are losing :)
All that to say, I'm still gonna miss this spectacular desert view...
Cody and I just got back from visiting our grandparents- his in Holdenville, OK, and mine in Centralia, IL, and there is so much I could share about our trip, but for now I want to write about my Afi. What I will say is that while we were in Holdenville, I was certain that Cody's dear grandparents didn't stop talking from the moment we got there until the moment we left- pick a subject, ANY subject, and they have a story for it! It was such a stark contrast to what we experienced in Centralia.
Silence.
When we sat down to eat, we would chit chat here and there, but there were not many stories that were shared. The radio and TV would be turned off, and all we would hear is the sound of crunching and eating and the ticking of the clock with the occasional hourly chime.
My grandfather, who I have always called Afi (Icelandic for grandpa), has Alzheimer's. He was fortunate in that it didn't start to ail him until he was already into his 90s. He was born and raised in Centralia, a tiny town of currently less than 15,000, and has never lived anywhere else with the exception of a station in Iceland, where he met my grandmother nearly 50 years ago when my mom was just 12. They will be celebrating their golden anniversary on August 9. Afi turned 97 the day before we left.
His daughter, Ruthie, and her husband, Vern, drove down from a small town in Illinois a little north of Peoria. Afi couldn't be talked into getting out of his pajamas and into some regular clothes, so it was a low-key celebration. After lunch, they headed out to continue on to a friend's house, and the phone calls came pouring in. Kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, friends, cousins, you name it- they all called to wish him a happy birthday. It was so hard watching him forget within minutes who it was that he had been on the phone with. There were times when we were there that we would hear him ask my Amma (grandmother) who Cody and I were; and she would remind him. He was never frightened, he just didn't know who we were. And he always forgot we were there; it was a surprise every time we came walking out of the kitchen or down the hall from the guest room.
The only person he knows now is Amma.
The night of his birthday, we sat in the living room watching TV, when all of a sudden he started coughing horribly; the kind of cough that was so jolting his whole body would convulse. This went on for a while, then he decided to get up to go to bed. But he was so exhausted from all the coughing that he couldn't get up out of his chair. He tried three times before Amma had to remind him to press the button to move the chair up and forward. Once he was up, he started walking toward their bedroom with Amma at his side. Cody and I got up to help because he would push his walker forward but his feet wouldn't move to catch up with it, which surely would have resulted in a face-plant on the wood floor. Thus began about an hour and a half of him continuously trying to get up out of bed every two minutes because he kept forgetting that he had already done so. I can't say much more about what happened that evening, because it was too personal and heartbreaking, but his birthday ended with him being taken in an ambulance to the hospital. And he hasn't been home since.
There are no words that can describe the pain of watching someone you love literally lose their mind. I have very, very close friends who have been affected by this horrendous disease, some who have already lost their loved ones, and one who is only in the beginning, and I can only pray for strength to endure what is to come, or for a flat-out miracle to intervene. I suppose you can argue that it may be just as well that they have no idea what is happening to them; but when you look into their eyes and are met with a blank stare, you know that you are the only one who can carry on their memories.
As we sat in the emergency room waiting for the doctor, Afi started reciting a portion of a very familiar prayer. "For thine is thy Kingdom, and the power and the glory forever and ever." And that was all he said before he drifted off to sleep again. Cody and I prayed and prayed that night, and God, being the good God that he is, allowed me to say goodbye to my Afi the next day, and he knew exactly who I was. Cody got to see a glimpse of the Afi I always knew. I told him how much I loved him, and that we will be praying for him always. He told me that he loved me and that he'll see me later. And I know that the next time I see him, he will not be suffering anymore. He will be well again, and his mind will be whole. He will be with God.
What I will never forget is the beautiful picture of marriage that he and my Amma painted for my husband and I to see first hand. They have taken such tremendous care of each other through the years, and have such understanding and concern for one another, that even through this time of total uncertainty and yet inevitability it is clear that they have each other's best interests at heart. My Afi has always said that the years he has spent with my Amma have been the best of his whole life. There is an intense appreciation between them that left a huge impression on Cody and me. Let's just say that we have a lot to look forward to if our marriage turns out the way theirs did. I praise God that He gave us the time and resources to see them this summer. You can never know when it's too late.
The Dixie Chicks wrote a song about the loss of the lead singer's grandmother to Alzheimer's. As much as it breaks my heart, I haven't been able to stop listening to it since we got back. Songs always speak to me, and this one is certainly no exception. (No idea who the people are in the video... it's just the only one I could find that I could embed.)
These walls have eyes Rows of photographs And faces like mine Who do we become Without knowing where We started from
It's true I'm missing you As I stand alone in your room
Everyday that will pass you by Every name that you won't recall Everything that you made by hand Everything that you know by heart
And I will try to connect All the pieces you left I will carry it on And let you forget And I'll remember the years When your mind was clear How the laughter and life Filled up this silent house
One room Two single beds In the closet hangs Your favorite dress The books that you read Are in scattered piles Of paper shreds
Everything that you made by hand Everything that you know by heart
And I will try to connect All the pieces you left I will carry it on And let you forget And I'll remember the years When your mind was clear How the laughter and life Filled up this silent house Silent house
In the garden off the living room A chill fills the air And the lilies bloom
And I will try to connect All the pieces you left I will carry it on And let you forget And I'll remember the years When your mind was clear How the laughter and life Filled up this
And I will try to connect All the pieces you left I will carry it on And let you forget And I'll remember the years When your mind was clear How the laughter and life Filled up this silent house
Being that Cody and I have been out of town visiting our grandparents and Uncle Bill (more on that later), I haven't had much time for blogging. Actually, that has more to do with the lack of an internet connection- no, scratch that, lack of a COMPUTER- than lack of time. (Grandparents are chill.)
For today, I want to take a moment to share with the Internet the baby toads we found hopping around outside this morning. They are smaller than a nickel, and cute as a button. Apparently we need to watch our step around monsoon season because we saw a few that met their demise due to their ironic ability to look like a piece of stray gravel. Sad.
These little guys bring back some great childhood memories of going to my friend Emily's house and making an afternoon of catching baby toads in her family's garden. Every summer they would go to the Verde River and bring home buckets of these little guys to put in their garden to eat bugs. We would promptly comb the garden to capture them, scare the piss out of them (literally), and watch them hop around wherever we decided to take them- usually the back patio or, if we were sneaky enough, into the living room. The ones who survived the neighborhood cats (or us) grew up to be large and quite slimy. Needless to say, they lost their appeal when it came to catching one, but we still thought they were cute.
Look how tiny he is!
You know you have your priorities messed up when your to-do list is 29-items deep, you haven't bothered to unpack even though you have been home for three days, the house has been turned upside down by a recent sewing project, and you are online, writing.
