For the past several days Alex has been on vacation. It was easy to feel as if I was on vacation too, except for the pesky things like dishes still piling up and the kids calling out that we were out of clean towels, again. I could really get used to having a second pair of hands around here. It was so nice to have the “what’s for dinner?” query of every night answered when I got home by Alex cooking away. I went several times to do the dishes, only to find that he had already done them, and wiped down the counters. When the kids were hitting me up with question number 2409 for the day I could say, “Go ask your father.” Trying to be a parent, a really hands on parent, is very difficult while working graveyard shift and sleeping during the day. I know; I tried to do it for years. It is easy to feel as if you are part of a different world as a day sleeper. Alex and I also were able to spend lots of time together, which was nice. We cuddled up and watched movies; made love, talked and just spent time snuggling. There are usually only a few times per month that we even share the same bed. We spent last week going to bed together, which was wonderful. It has been very cold here lately and I felt totally at ease stealing body heat. We did have a few nights where Alex would steal all of the covers from me and a resulting tug-o-war would ensue. He claimed total ignorance in the mornings. He isn’t used to sharing the blankets anyone. Now we are both saddened by the fact that he has to return to work tonight and we are back to the hustle and bustle and the separate schedules and the days when we have no time to talk .

Also, last week, as I was reveling in the goodness of a man who awoke earlier than I and made my coffee perfectly with a beautiful head of frothed milk on the top and delivered it to me one minute before my alarm was set to go off so I could relax and sip myself awake instead of being jolted awake by a horrible buzzing sound; we heard the news from Australia that my grandmother, my nanny, as I call her, was going downhill quickly. My mother quickly tried to get a ticket to NSW. Last minute tickets were in the $4000 range and my mom was so determined to go and sit by her bedside and so frazzled by the idea that she might not make it that she couldn’t even think straight. She went round and round over the planning until I reminded her of a travel agent friend she hadn’t spoken to in some time. My mom was hesitant, but she called her, and the lovely lady who also happens to be a transplanted Aussie like my mother was able to find my mom a ticket that was significantly cheaper. My mom booked it and started packing. Saturday morning her brother called to let her know that their mom had died.

My mom drove over to my house and we sat together. We talked and cried and remembered. We shared stories of this beautiful, strong woman who made it to the age of 96. We laughed as we both recalled that nanny always had more done before 7 am than we could ever accomplish in one day. It wasn’t that everyone wasn’t expecting this death, it was the fact that being so many thousands of miles away, we were all hoping for more time, and just one more opportunity to see her.

My grandparents came to visit us here in Portland in 1980. Neither of them had been on an airplane before. I remember Mt. St. Helens erupted soon after their arrival and my grandfather commented on the welcome party. My grandfather died in 1991. A lot of people thought my nanny would follow quickly, but she continued on, keeping busy with her art and enjoying her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

I had a photo of her that I wanted to share here of my nanny, but Alex’s computer died last night and most of our things were on there with no backup. Yes, we know how foolish that was.

My mom decided to cancel her flight after being notified that she wouldn’t even make the funeral in time. We are going to get together here and have a celebration honoring her life and a mass held in her honor at the grotto, which was one of her favorite places here in Portland. My mom is still dealing with the fact that she was unable to be by her side when she passed. I want to believe that she knew we were all with her in her heart, and that she knew how much she was loved. The day she died would have been her 77^th wedding anniversary. I can see why people turn to faith during times like these, as it is so tempting to believe that she and my grandfather and their son who died before both of them are all together now, sipping a cup of tea.