On Commitment

Some people believe that we live many lives, and each life serves as the foundation for new lessons we need to learn to carry with us in our souls. Maybe it's so that we can be our best self when we finally go to heaven.

I think if this is true, I must have lived many, many lives. I've heard people who have lived many lives have a terrible time deciding what career to take on, or making other hard decisions. Because, well, there's so many things it seems we can do. There's too much to pick from. Too much to be passionate about. Too much we could be good at. And so we stall. And think. And think too much.

Not only can I not pick a career, I can't pick a book to read. I can't pick a story to write. I can't pick a sentence to say. I can't pick a person to know. Because there are too many. There is too much good that can be done. There are too many options. There are too many words to read and write. There are too many people to meet. There is no way to know which choice is better. And each choice is an investment of yourself. And we can't pick them all. And we can't do them all. We have to pick. We have to choose.

And that. Is. Daunting. 

And I suppose, in this life, that's the lesson I have to learn. I suppose I have to choose. I have to accept that one is good enough. And one will lead to many. Not all, but many. Because if I don't choose then I am left with none. I am left with wasted creativity, wasted thought, wasted effort. I am wasting away the good that could be done out of my very own mind.

So I think we have to choose a path and not think about is as if it might be the "right" or "wrong" choice. We have to look at it as a commitment. Say, "I will commit to this decision, and in committing I am sure it will lead me where I need to go." It might be a smooth or bumpy ride, but either way it doesn't mean you made the right or wrong decision. Anytime you commit to something you win. You learn. You persevere. And you take the knowledge you learned on that path and you apply it to your next journey; your next commitment.

So I will pick a career to have. I will choose a book to read. I will decide on a story to write. I will choose a person to know. I will pick the words to say. And I will commit to them and appreciate where they take me. Because that is better than standing still and watching the world spin by.

Wait for me Grandma

Wait for me grandma,
though I won’t be too soon,
I’m on my way to heaven
to read books and drink milk with you.

A few months it’s been,
But it seems like a longer while,
I’m ready to feel your hug and
see that warm grandma smile.

“I love you,” one more time
I wish I could hear you say,
A card game, one more time
I wish we could play.

So wait for me grandma,
though I won’t be too soon,
I’m on my way to heaven
To read books and drink milk with you.

Happy Birthday, Grandma.

by: Ashley Rainsbarger
May 28th, 2015

Grandma

Grandma passed away on Oct. 20th 2014. I miss her everyday. I still don't think I quite understand that she's gone. It's hardest when I look at pictures, the ones we took with the kids before she died. I feel like she's still right there. I feel like I can reach into the photo and touch her.
But I can't.

I saw her about 2 days before she went into a "sleep." She was complaining a little about the swelling in her arms, but pretty good spirited. I felt like she could still be with us a good, long while. We discussed plans with hospice. I made her laugh. I kissed her and hugged her goodbye. But when she came home she wasn't awake. The nurse said they gave her medication for her anxiety. She was very anxious about dying. I had hoped she would be more at peace with it, like you see in the movies, and read about in books - but she was scared. The nurse said she would probably wake up once the medication wore off. She didn't.

For about a week it was like she was just sleeping, and you couldn't wake her. The nurse said her body was tired, and she probably wouldn't wake up like they thought. I was devastated. I didn't know that day in the hospital was my last day. I would have said more. I came everyday. I held her hand.  I told her that I was going to make sure everything was okay. I told her it was okay to go.

That Monday, I decided I shouldn't go to work. I wanted to go see her. I still felt like she could be here for a long time. I'm so glad I didn't work that day.

I spent the morning looking through and organizing photos. I knew when she passed there were irreplaceable things that needed to get out of the house, because the house would go into probate and we didn't know what was going to happen to it. My cousin came to visit. I was standing at the bottom of her bed. My cousin was holding her hand. A nurse came in to do some daily care. She said she was showing signs of passing soon. Maybe 2 or 3 days left .I was terrified it was going to be violent. My husband described how it was with his father, and I just didn't know what to expect.

While the nurse was listening to her chest, grandma took a very deep breath, and then she stopped breathing. I held my breath. About 8 seconds later she breathed again and for a second I felt relief. But then she took another 10 seconds before she breathed again. The nurse said, "I think she is passing." I looked at her with astonishment. I wasn't ready. My mom wasn't in the room. I yelled for her, and then I ran to get her. I came back. The nurse shook her head. She was gone.

My mom took it so hard in that moment that I only allowed myself to be sad for a few minutes. Then I didn't feel anything. I had to be strong for my mother, even though grandma was my mother too.


I still feel like I felt that day, after the sadness. I didn't even really cry at the funeral. I just looked into space, and tried not to think of how weird she looked in the coffin. Tried to remember that wasn't her anymore. She wasn't here. She was somewhere better.

I ask her to visit me in my dreams. Sometimes she does. In the last dream I couldn't open my eyes wide enough to really see her face, but I felt her squeezing my hand. I knew it was her because I was able to run my finger over her long nails down to the curved tip. Hudson was sleeping next to me that afternoon for a nap, and I asked her to visit him too.

She was my guardian angel on earth, and now she is my guardian angel in heaven.