What to wish for...

11:45:00 PM

Today is my grandfather's 80th birthday.
Well...i mean, it would be today, if well, you know, he was still alive. But this post is not to be all "grandpop reflective;" it is instead a post about nothing much- just wanted to comment that my grandmom did not once mention that it was his birthday today. She has forgotten.

She wrote the date on her check at CVS.

She mentioned multitudes of times that tomorrow is my birthday (we've shared a birthday for well...the last 20 years) and even bought me a card and wrote out a check for me

She had mentioned for weeks before this that her husband's birthday was coming up...and yet today she has forgotten. I'm kind of sad and kind of glad she did...

I was a little nervous she'd catch on when the guy from Peruzzi's called and left a message on the answering machine "to be one of the first to wish you a happy birthday" for my grandpop, but instead, since Peruzzi man did not mention grandpop's name, she assumed he was calling to wish me a happy birthday.

Go figure...I've got Peruzzi men, whose car I don't even own, wishing me a happy birthday. Cool!
It's not that she didn't mention my g-pop today (she mentions him everyday), but it never clicked that today was his day.

Last year at this time I was in England.

I called my grandpop from the phone in the hallway. It probably cost me 5 pounds to call him the way that those phone cards ate my minutes and my money. I'm really glad. That was the last time I heard his voice. Weird. He hadn't realized it was his birthday when he woke up because he had thought it was only the 22nd. I know how it is to forget which day of the week it is...that's why I missed a Spanish assignment last week. My grandmom took the phone to talk to me and yabbered endlessly about how her garden this and dinner that and blah blah blah...but then my grandpop took the phone back with his usual "dear..." and "she probably has to get going- it's long distance" and then I wished him a happy birthday and he wished me a happy birthday and then I said I love you and he said I love you and I would see him in a few months...little did I know...little did I know.

But I knew. I knew. In the back of my head I had that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach as I walked down the steps and sat on the leather couches in the living room of Flat 10. I knew. I knew my grandmom was going crazy...we'd seen it already the summer before when she started saying things like "is Jeremiah (my brother) Owen's (my father's) son?" (how funny it is that having to answer that question is so normal to me now, whereas, when she said that at this time last year, I felt sick to my stomach). I knew something was going to happen. But I kind of rubbed it off as you always feel that way when you go away...but something (some many many things) were going to happen.

And then I really knew...I really really knew something was wrong when I got my grandmom's birthday card in the mail. My grandmom always had beautiful cursive handwriting ( i mean, she's German- obviously it must be perfect). The chicken scratch I recieved in the mail was not her handwriting "Tiffie (below a scribbled out "Debbie")" and some ramblings about my call and coming home...it scared me...I remember clearly, being so excited to get mail, and then holding my card as I walked back into one of Ed Major's classes, shaking a little.

It's strange this was all a year ago. Life was different a year ago. There were marzipan cows and pigs and sheep on a blueberry cake a year ago. A carefree fall day in England...a year ago. Coffee with my friend English Hannah and a day of yarn shopping and getting a cute green top a year ago. A surprise party with all of my girlies a year ago. A magic apron...a year ago. And now...I don't know. I'm not sad or depressed that that isn't my life anymore. That was a season. This is a season. A time to laugh. A time to cry.

Tomorrow, I won't wish for things to be how they always were. I don't want them to be. I'm thankful for every single aspect of this last year. Even the horrible, scary, utterly painful parts of it. I'm thankful for who this year has made me to be...and who God has shown me He is. I wouldn't give it up for all of the yum yums or kinder buenos or marzipan animals York has to offer...

So...I better go figure out what to do with my last fifteen minutes of being a teenager...hmmmmmmmmmm...bye!

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