When you settle into a routine it can be easy to forget about taking time to reflect. I haven’t written for a few weeks because I have been preoccupied with lesson plans, correcting papers, and enjoying myself. While things have certainly been going well, recent news warrants an indefinite time out.
I found out that my grandfather, 96 years young, is becoming feebler by the day. He is currently in the hospital and the doctor has advised my stepfather, Dave, to start calling family members. The situation is precarious and the outlook is bleak. Whether the inevitable happens in an hour or in 6 months does not change the unfortunate fact that I will still be in Iraq as yet another family member passes away.
Upon my grandmother’s passing I felt that a small part of my life went missing. Calling her every week was therapeutic for me and knowing that she supported my every decision gave me confidence. Being away while it happened has been a catch-22. I was able to avoid much of the grief and sadness that my family endured, probably making it slightly easier on me immediately after. However, I don’t have much of anything in terms of closure and the same feelings I would have had to endure anyways are being drawn out slowly. My response thus far has been to block out all negative emotions, but in times like this it is hard to keep them at bay.
Papa has been a model of resiliency and toughness for some time now. Legally blind and deaf, he has largely remained self-sufficient until age 96. If that isn’t impressive enough, he was still quick witted when I came to Iraq and, if his body permitted, would probably still be working. His passing will be less surprising than my grandmother’s given his age and deteriorating condition. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I spent a great deal of time with Papa while home and, over the past few years, have started to truly enjoy my time with him. Whereas once I would mentally complain about having to take him to the store, I began to miss it once he lost the will to go. I remember my father once telling me to spend as much time as possible with my grandparents because you never know when they will be gone. I have done my best to take that advice to heart, although in hindsight I certainly wish I had done more.
Having endured one divorce directly and felt the lingering effects of another for my entire life, “fractured” seems to be an apt way of describing my family life. While I would NEVER complain about my upbringing or anything that happened to me, this separation of my family has presented a unique set of challenges for me. Individual relationships have always been fairly strong, and love and support were always in abundant supply. However, the overall dynamic has always been fluid and partitioned. While others in my family are well aware of my situation, it can feel alone in the sense that nobody can truly grasp all of what I am going through given the separateness of my family. The situation with Goomey and now with Papa further illustrate this.
I have tried to be a constant link that somehow connects otherwise unconnected parts of my family together. By piecing all parts and adjoining them together in my head, I could finally have the stability I have been looking for. Being away as two family members, from different “families,” pass away has caused the foundation of all of this to tremble. The web of my family members is under increasing pressure and I am a helpless bystander. When I go home things will be vastly different than when I had left.
I have no regrets about coming to Kurdistan as I knew these unfortunate events were a possibility. Again, that doesn’t make them any easier as the added uncertainty of next year looms large. There is plenty of time left to weigh and assess my options. But one question being increasingly thrust to the forefront is whether I can continue to maintain outstretched arms, clinging to maintain my semblance of family while being away from home.
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