The Drive
I'm heading home.
It is just over 700 miles from door to door.
I've driven from Sacramento to Olympia about a dozen times.
3 of those earn the status of "extremely difficult".
January of 1997. My dad, Matt and I loaded up in a Ryder truck and headed to the first place Matt and I would call "home". We were stationed at Fort Lewis and starting our life together as married adults. I cried from Sacramento to Redding. I was scared about the future and sad to leave home.
April 2014. The boys and I started North around 5pm. It was a much later start than I had planned, but I just couldn't drag myself out of town any earlier. Matt deployed a week before Spring break and as soon as school got out the boys and I spent our vacation in California visiting family. We had a great time with everyone, and the sadness and fear of the deployment seemed to be dulled by the joy and fun of being with family. When it came time to leave I was overwhelmed. With every mile that I drove toward the empty house in Wa, the further away I was from the loving support of my family in California. With Matt in Afghanistan, California felt more like "home" and I just didn't want to leave. Thankfully, I was bombarded with phone calls and texts that encouraged me and brightened my day until I got to Medford where we stopped for the night.
August 2015. My five day trip to spend time with grandma has already doubled and still my stay seems too short. Leaving now seems impossible. And yet I feel it is the right time to go. The bags are packed, the van is mostly loaded, and I accomplished the things I came for. I spent time with my grandmother and helped my parents with her care for a week.
Other family members are arriving to take a shift helping with Grandma. I've said what I need to say. I've laughed, I've cried, I've simply watched her sleep. There is nothing left to be done here, and yet I'm not confident I can physically pull out of the driveway and leave.
Unless God performs a miracle or I get back on a plane in a few days, I do not expect I will see my grandma alive again. And that makes leaving unbelievably hard.
I also know that there will be tough days ahead for my grandma and my family and I desperately want to be here for them as they deal with pain that comes. It is hard to leave when you know there is still so much work to be done.
It is just over 700 miles from door to door.
I've driven from Sacramento to Olympia about a dozen times.
3 of those earn the status of "extremely difficult".
January of 1997. My dad, Matt and I loaded up in a Ryder truck and headed to the first place Matt and I would call "home". We were stationed at Fort Lewis and starting our life together as married adults. I cried from Sacramento to Redding. I was scared about the future and sad to leave home.
April 2014. The boys and I started North around 5pm. It was a much later start than I had planned, but I just couldn't drag myself out of town any earlier. Matt deployed a week before Spring break and as soon as school got out the boys and I spent our vacation in California visiting family. We had a great time with everyone, and the sadness and fear of the deployment seemed to be dulled by the joy and fun of being with family. When it came time to leave I was overwhelmed. With every mile that I drove toward the empty house in Wa, the further away I was from the loving support of my family in California. With Matt in Afghanistan, California felt more like "home" and I just didn't want to leave. Thankfully, I was bombarded with phone calls and texts that encouraged me and brightened my day until I got to Medford where we stopped for the night.
August 2015. My five day trip to spend time with grandma has already doubled and still my stay seems too short. Leaving now seems impossible. And yet I feel it is the right time to go. The bags are packed, the van is mostly loaded, and I accomplished the things I came for. I spent time with my grandmother and helped my parents with her care for a week.
Other family members are arriving to take a shift helping with Grandma. I've said what I need to say. I've laughed, I've cried, I've simply watched her sleep. There is nothing left to be done here, and yet I'm not confident I can physically pull out of the driveway and leave.
Unless God performs a miracle or I get back on a plane in a few days, I do not expect I will see my grandma alive again. And that makes leaving unbelievably hard.
I also know that there will be tough days ahead for my grandma and my family and I desperately want to be here for them as they deal with pain that comes. It is hard to leave when you know there is still so much work to be done.
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