Enjoy the Ride

This morning, my dear grandmother passed away. She battled cancer for 8 years, fighting the disease with more grace, bravery, and elegance than I ever thought possible. Everyone who knew her was blessed by her love.

Last week, she expressed her desire to live until Thanksgiving, but her rate of decline made it clear that she had days, not months, to live. So we gathered together to celebrate our own Thanksgiving. The meal was not traditional Thanksgiving fare-- We feasted on ham, toss salad, squash, scalloped potatoes, and two types of Jell-o salad. Everyone agreed that it was the best Thanksgiving meal they'd ever had.

After dinner, we gathered in Grandma's room. She had been bedridden for about a month, and unable to stay awake longer than a few minutes. We talked to her, and though she couldn't respond, I know she heard us. Her bedroom felt sacred. I felt the presence of angels in the room. She woke up to take a few bites, then fell back asleep.

Throughout the night, we all took turns sitting with her and holding her hand, having our private moments with Grandma. My dad, who was in Pennsylvania, talked to her on the phone. My cousins and I sang to her. Being there with her and my dear family was the most sacred experience I've ever had.

This morning, Grandma passed away. She was with my grandfather, her eternal companion. I got the call from my aunt at 9:28. Our family gathered once again to comfort each other and make some final arrangements. The love and support of family is a tender mercy of the Lord. Though this is a time of deep sadness, I can't help but thank God for all the many blessings He's given me and my family. It is beautiful and right that my dear grandmother's death should bring us all together.


Life is challenging and heart-breaking, but it is also sweet. In the turmoil of living, it's easy to forget that each person has the ability to create beauty in their own unique way. Our family, drawn closer by greif-- beauty, created from impossible circumstances.

I know I've said that the last two years have been tough, but they've also been filled with the most tender and radient experiences. The feeling you get when you find joy-- even briefly - in the midst of pain is the purest and most sacred feeling. Living, really living, isn't meant to be easy and smooth. It's meant to take you to the lowest of lows, so you can fully appreciate the soaring joys you're destined to experience.

Gordon B. Hinkley, former president of the LDS church, included the following quote in a devotiona he gave at BYU:

Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he's been robbed. The fact is that most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough...Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise...
Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.

And I do. Grandma, it was a blessing and a privilege to be your granddaughter. Thank you for your love of beauty, faith in God, and your always-inspiring example of what it means to be a strong, dedicated wife, mother, and grandmother. I miss you terribly, but I know you're no longer suffering, and that your parents and old friends are so excited to have you with them again. I'll see you in about 80 yeas. I love you.

Grandma, Dad, and Me

Here's to enjoying the ride, cinders, ashes, and all.

x,
   m

Micaela's Handy Guide to Grieving

I know I've been absent from the blog-o-sphere lately. I've tried to write about ten times, but I haven't been able to force my ideas into something coherent. When I have to force the words, I'm usually not comfortable publishing them on my blog. It's too embarrassing.

I realized that if I don't just write what's on my mind, I'll never get back to blogging, and I really, really like blogging. So forgive me if this isn't my usual sarcastic commentary on human existence.

Pretty much, I have been sad. So incredibly sad that I've had trouble talking, let alone writing.

"But, Micaela, why are you sad?"

You know how some days everything seems to go horribly wrong? You wake up late, can't find your other shoe, staple your finger to your report, stub your toe twice, and before you know it you're in a bathroom stall taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to dissolve into tears.

That, my friends, has pretty much been the last two years of my life. Except instead of stapling myself or stubbing my toe, my parents split up, I had random fainting spells, I moved across the country, and my grandmother is dying. And a lot of other stuff happened that I don't need to talk about. And right now I'm in the proverbial bathroom stall, holding back very literal tears.

I'm in the grieving process right now. About twenty times a day, I have to step back and say, "Be gentle with yourself, Micaela." So I am. I sleep more than usual. I don't worry about my pants size. I've stopped trying to force myself to smile. If someone makes me feel "less than," I just avoid spending time with them. I bought sweaters that are both extremely comfortable and mildly fashionable that I wear almost all the time. You guys, I've even started watching Gossip Girl again, marathon style, on Netflix. It's ridiculously therapeutic to watch TV that requires zero brain function. (And, let's be honest, in my head I'm totally dating Nate Archibald.)

But grief is dangerous. Sadness easily morphs into anger, and anger is impulsive, boundless, and self-destructive. When I get mad, I have to sit down and remind myself that I'm grieving, and that anger is just a crude mask for sadness.

I'm learning to ask for help. A hug does wonders, as does a Jell-O cup, going for walks, listening to hymns, talking to my dad on the phone, singing along to Le Mis, doing laundry, wearing sweatpants...

I guess my point here is that it's okay to be sad if you do it in the right way. And you realize when it's gone too far. And you ask for help. And you remember to put on pants and stuff.

Thanks for your understanding. I've gotten so much good feedback from my blog thus far, and seriously, it means so much when people tell me they read/like/acknowledge The Epitome of Snark. If you have any ideas of things I should blog about, hit me up.

x,
   m

p.s.- My readers are seriously the best. <3

Hurricanes

I remember a church dance I attended shortly after turning 14. It was the kind of dance where boys asked girls to dance, and the girls were always supposed to say yes the first time a boy asked them.

I was having a great time dancing with my friends to Livin' on a Prayer, but as the song ended a familiar tune began to fade in. The piano into to You and Me by Life House started to play, the cue for all the girls to scatter so they could look lonely enough to get asked to dance. I did just that. Much to my delight, an older boy wandered over to me and offered his arm. He was at least a full foot taller than me, so once we began to dance, my neck was craned up to him at an uncomfortable angle. We started to chat bout who knows what, blowing through the easy topics quickly. We ran out of things to talk about before the second chorus. As we swayed in uncomfortable silence, I wracked my brain for things to say.

"I like your tie," I said. I'm pretty sure my voice cracked. He graciously avoided laughing.

"Thanks... So... if you were weather... what would you be?"

We looked at each other. What a stupid question, we thought in unison.

"I'd be... a spring day?" That seemed safe. Everyone loves spring.

"Cool, me too."

Then, mercifully, the song ended. I never talked to him again, but I wish I could. I need to change my answer.

You may have heard of heard me talk about John Green before. He is my favorite author, hands down. His novel Looking for Alaska, literally changed my life (I'll tell that story someday). There's a quote in the book that replays in my brain at least once a day:

If people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

I've learned a lot since I was 14. I've learned how to cook, clean a bathroom in less than 20 minutes, break-up with someone, fill awkward silences, and properly apply eyeliner. I've learned that I actually enjoy action movies, and that Mean Girls may be the best movie of all time.

But more than that, I've learned that normal is boring. When I was 14, I thought that being "normal" or "average" was somehow the key to being happy. I tourtured myself over that for years, changing my clothes, my hair, the way I talked, my sense of humor, all to meet some imaginary standard of what a "normal person" would do.

Drizzle is average and boring. No one writes news stories about drizzle. There is nothing at all spectacular about drizzle. It almost seems apologetic as it falls.

But hurricanes... Hurricanes demand attention. They are big and powerful and do whatever they want. Never has a hurricane apologized for itself, never has a hurricane held itself back simply to appease other people. Much like the proverbial honey badger, hurricanes don't care. You know when a hurricane has been somewhere because it changes things, rips things to shreds, turns things upside down.

Now, I know that hurricanes are serious business and I'm not trying to make light of the damage and casualties they can cause. I'm just saying... if people were rain, I'd rather be a hurricane than drizzle any day.

Especially now, when someone I love dearly is fighting for her life against cancer, I can't help but think of the mark I'm leaving on the world. My dear grandma is the greatest hurricane I know. When she enters a room, you know. You can see her path through the world because it's marked with the beauty that she imparts on everything she touches. Grandma turns things upside down because they are better that way-- it's just that no one else would have had the good sense to change it.

I want to honor my grandmother by being a hurricane myself. Maybe I'll get there someday. Today I feel like a heavy, no-nonsense downpour, and that's good enough. But because of Grandma's example, I won't be going back to being a drizzle.

Please keep my family in your prayers in this difficult time.

x,
   m