One week ago today my Husband and I were in southern Arizona. It was a trip that we had been planning for some time... one filled with cherished family interactions and warmth (both the human affection kind and the sun in the sky kind). But despite my Grandma's insistence that I am not a jinx, I fully believe that my bragging about 80 degree weather only days before our departure sealed our fate for an unusually cold Arizona experience. Oh, the sun did peek out from time to time... when it wasn't raining (definitely not common for the desert). There was actually frost on the windows and goosebumps on the skin. I was in a turtleneck instead of shorts for goodness sake. Spirits, however, were not dampened and the memories will be added with pleasure to those of vacations past.It has been seven years since my last journey to Arizona, a trip made in order to spend time with my Grandparents (snowbirds who head for more favorable temperatures when winter comes a calling in the Rocky Mountains). A lot has changed since that visit. Seven years ago my Husband was my first serious boyfriend, I was a teacher for Early Head Start and, well, I was seven years younger. For this visit, I am six years married, a church secretary and, well, seven years older. It doesn't feel like that much time has passed though.
To me, my grandparents will always be Hapa and Haguamp (terms of endearment I coined as an obviously creative child). To them, I will always be their ugliest Granddaughter. I've been referred to as such for as long as I can remember. You see, for the first 29 and a half years of my life, I was the ONLY granddaughter on that side of the family. So... of course, I had to be the ugliest. On the flip side, that meant that I was also the prettiest and as so many folks will attest to, the most spoiled. Thanks to the loving care of my wonderful Husband, that latter part continues today.
This time around we only had a couple of days to fit in as much as possible. We made it to Mexico and had real Mexican food (or at least as authentic as a border town can provide). We drove around and took in the sights of the snowbird populated city (a veritable ghost town in the summers), visited family and friends living in or passing through the area, ate at a delicious buffet that only a casino could provide, and sat back for quiet evenings watching the one or two channels that offered anything worth viewing. It was a much slower pace than we are generally used to but one I wouldn't trade for the world.
As with every vacation beginning, there too must be an end. The truth is, I am not good at goodbyes. There are tears on my part and more tears if I even think about having said goodbye no matter how many miles have been put between us. So, when the last photo was taken and the hugs began... so fell the inevitable tears. Grandpa just laughed and Grandma smiled. Even now I feel the pressure behind my eyes. My Husband says I have a tender heart. I just hate goodbyes.
As we drove down the highway and my thoughts were filled with images of the past couple of days, the sounds of voices echoing in my still fresh memories and the familiarity of family draping me like a warm blanket, my thoughts went in a direction that didn't help the tears. It was not a new thought, but one I've tried to face bravely before... a battle I will never win even if children do become a part of our lives.
Unlike my Husband, who lost his grandparents years ago, I had the amazing privilege of growing up in close proximity to both sets of my grandparents. I consider myself extremely blessed! I married late and despite our every effort, children have not come along. With every passing year, the dream of having my children know my grandparents is slipping away. I've lost one Grandpa already... and though I'll be able to tell my children all about him, they won't have the memories or the experiences of him. They won't remember his laughter or be able to see with their own eyes how very much he enjoyed buying jewelry for his wife. The thought of these memories ending with me sometimes hurts far worse than infertility.
Perhaps it isn't so much the struggle with infertility that takes my thoughts in such painful directions. I love my family and am thankful for the people in my life. I don't understand how people who don't believe in Heaven can handle the final goodbyes we all must face. My one comfort is that I believe I will see these dear loved ones again someday. Still, be a vacation goodbye or an eternal one, I still am not good at them and tears are a guarantee. I guess this is something we all can hope for in the end... that someone will remember us when we are gone and cry good tears.
If my vacation story came across with a slightly depressing tone, that was unintentional. None of us is guaranteed a tomorrow and sometimes I am too aware of that. Throw in my struggle with infertility and you got a bit of an overly emotional thinkaholic. I used to keep such things to myself but then came along a blog and now you too are privy to my thought processes. I doubt I am alone though in my ten degrees of separation mentality.
To wrap things up for now, I will tuck all thoughts of goodbye (past, present, or future) away and reflect on the conclusion of our freezing Arizona trip. Where one chapter ended, another began... my Husband and I miscalculated travel time and thus missed our flight home, got the full pat-down at the airport by security personnel, and had to break the news to my father-in-law (who was our final ride home) that we were being rerouted to another airport (a trip that would take him a little over an hour out of his way at midnight no less). Life is full of adventures... and for good or for bad those we love often get to be a part of them.
In March my Husband and I are going on a Caribbean cruise. For our family's sake lets hope this next adventure stays right on track.
