Two weeks ago, my grandmother died. I don't liked "passed away" or "passed on" or any other sugar coated phrase. She died. She's gone. It sucks really bad, but that's the truth of the matter, and I feel like not sugar coating it is what makes it real.

Gramma was ninety-one years old. She got sick and needed surgery. The surgery was a huge risk, but she was going to die for sure without it, so it was done. She did surprisingly well for a couple of weeks afterwards, but then went downhill and fell into a coma. Not long after that, her children collectively decided to have the feeding tube removed, up the morphine doses and basically just sick back and wait. It took longer than we expected, and there were very most likely some questions about whether they'd made the right decision. No one spoke about that, though, because the decision was made and the deed was done. Four days later, she died. Two of her six children were by her side.

Since I'm still unemployed, I went to my mom's house and stayed for almost a week. We have a big extended family and the majority of them were there for the wake and funeral, which was wonderful, but not at all surprising. Gramma was well loved and touched many, many lives. There was concern that there wouldn't be enough food to feed everyone who showed up for the funeral. The priest was crazy and at times, inappropriate, but we've all known him for many years and kind of expected that. Regardless of that, though, he was a regular presence in Gramma's life, and though she also recognized his senility, she would've greatly appreciated his being there.

The whole thing sucked really, really bad, and it was horrible to see my mom and the aunts and uncles who helped raise me crying and shuddering. However, there was a silver lining, believe it or not. My grandparents had six kids, which in turn led to thirteen grandkids, including myself. I spent a lot of time with my cousins growing up, and we developed some pretty incredible, strong, family bonds. I've always known that, but it's been a very long time since I've spent time with any of my cousins. I did last week, though. Hours and hours, actually, just sitting at Gramma's house, eating, drinking, talking and just being together. It was so utterly wonderful and it put a whole new perspective on my own life. The importance of family was like a punch to the gut. It's not that I didn't understand it before. It's just that I was reminded of how wonderful it is.

I'm nearing thirty. I've always wanted a masters degree. I've always wanted to live outside of the midwest. I've wanted to be a parent. I've wanted a lot of things, and I've spent my entire life talking about it, but doing nothing. My life won't last forever, though, and I'm pretty much out of time to be irresponsible and make excuses. If I want the things I say I want, it's time to make them happen.

So, I've found a grad school. I think I might want to have a baby. I'm totally freaked out that I just typed that sentence. I want to move to the southwest US, but I want to come back to the midwest, because this is where my family is, and I can't bare the thought of raising kids who don't get the chance to know their family.

I'm going to make this shit happen, starting now. And I'm really excited about it!