Thanksgiving Eve

 

Dear Grandma,

The day before Thanksgiving is finally here. I did the best I could with the preparation.

My list was ambitious, but I am glad of what I accomplished. I did take the new mop out of the box but have not used it yet. Organizing and filing took a day longer than planned, so by the time I got to mopping the floors, I decided to wait until closer to Christmas to do a thorough mopping.

I still used the Swiffer mop ... well, I didn't want to not mop.

Jazz's daughter (the youngest one) arrived on Sunday. Jazz was all cool ... well, up until we pulled up to the airport. Then, it was all squeals, hugs, and waterworks. I am glad that Evie was able to come after all; Jazz did not want to get too excited in case things fell through.

It's Jazz's default: waiting for the other shoe to drop.

However, something told me that Evie was going to pull it off. 

I am happy for Jazz. She needed this win. There has been so much turbulence in the past few years.

I'm not saying this as a slight or even as judgment. It's just what I've observed. It's a distant cry from the person I officially met for the first time over ten years ago.

I'm not talking about the physical changes; heck, I did not even factor in the perimenopause, sheesh!

It's more what happened to her gusto — her overall light.

See, I always considered Jazz the optimist in our duo. There were moments when my thoughts would get so dark, leaning into pessimism and accelerated worry, but she would reel me in.

She would tell me that it'd get figured out, and many times, it did.

Jazz has not had the best luck with employment. It has nothing to do with being capable and not having the skills.

There are many factors.

For the jobs that required physical labor, their tenures were cut short by the chronic medical issues limiting her mobility and stamina. She also experienced jobs where staff was cut and she was let go. She did get to the point where she applied for disability but kept getting rejected (even during the appeal process). They recognized that she had these ailments but she was not "sick enough" under their guidelines to qualify.

I could say more, but I won't dwell on this. Except to say that it's infuriating.

Jazz is the type of person who wants harmony in all areas she is passionate about. This includes where she works.

Sure, many conclude (myself included) that this level of cohesion is almost impossible. Even at my workplace, I see more people coming to work for reasons other than enjoyment. 

Jazz's ability to go the extra mile is linked to how much she enjoys her environment. The moment things occur that consistently cause her sorrow, disappointment, and anger, she switches to indifference and figuring out an exit strategy. 

Grandma, I admit. I have mastered compartmentalization. Perhaps I have been burned too much by going above and beyond. Almost losing your life and being let go a few weeks after the trauma can do that to you.

Not that I am a slacker. I just focus on the task at hand.

When it's time to go home, I leave whatever challenges and worries related to my job at my desk. I sign off from work and reboot myself.

This is the best way for me. I know it isn't for everyone.

This isn't to say that I lack good interactions with people at work. I have found such a great treasure in Miss Pat. If you would have met her, you would have adored her. It goes beyond the Virgo connection. I believe she was meant to be part of my village. I'm more open to conversing with people and chiming in when there are commonalities.

Jazz has a soft spot for the special needs and elderly demographic, so she has preferred working in those segments. She has discovered that those segments (which should receive the most and the best care) do not get the care and attention they need.

This causes a tug-of-war in Jazz's heart.

Every place she goes, the clients love her, but the staff (yes, even the higher-ups) create the challenges. Therefore, Jazz winds up having to choose between being a mainstay for the clients and choosing herself due to the working conditions taking a toll on her well-being.

Jazz cannot compartmentalize. She has no poker face. The worse the conditions, the more her bitterness sets in. Her outlook dims. All I hear from her is what has gone wrong instead of the wonderful stories she'd share about her clients. Darkness and doom arrive daily.

Now, I am saying the words that she said to me those years ago.

I do want to be there, but I cannot engage with her heaviness while tackling my own. I expressed that I wanted no more talk of that place's doom, especially for the next few days. I am open to conversations about the clients or the staff she has a good rapport with.

I can't tackle the rest right now.

Jazz cannot be the calm when she is storming. It's okay. I do not expect her to be.

There have been moments when I've been internally spiraling and like clockwork, I'm putting out others' fires. Your loss amplifies the taxing of this practice: putting myself on pause while getting everyone else functional.

Telling people I'm not okay still makes me feel -icky. I'm unsure if that discomfort will ever go away. Yet, I've been able to do this more often, and that's an achievement.

I'm planning on returning to therapy. More so to have an objective ear and to keep me mindful than anything. I have not attended much since you've passed. Not since the therapist encouraged me to do a journal. I will contact her after Thanksgiving has concluded. Maybe she can squeeze me in before Christmas rolls around.

I took the cast iron skillet from the cabinet this morning. It's seasoned and ready for the cornbread. Gino doesn't eat the cornbread dressing. Maybe it's a texture thing. It's the only wet bread Jazz will eat, which is an achievement. It's my first time making it in this oven, so I hope it cooks the way I want it to.

Grandma, you would have loved this kitchen. Gas stove. Refrigerator with an ice maker. Plenty of cabinet space. Room to prep food.

The only downside is the sink (one compartment), but we have a dishwasher. I also bought a dish rack.

Jazz already shed a tear or two this morning. I told her I would do some writing; weirdly (or not), she knew I would be posting here (I didn't tell her which blog). I may drop a "Dear Grandpa" on the other blog, although I usually wait until his birthday or Father's Day. We will see what happens.

I have other things to do ... finish up laundry, have breakfast, get my nails done, shop for the rest of the food items ... not necessarily in that order, so I'll end this here.

Love you.

Upcoming: Holiday 1

 

Dear Grandma,

Normally, I would be winding down for sleep, but I have too much energy to expel. Also, I am waiting for my bedroom floor to dry. This may seem strange to you, but none of the floors in the house are carpeted ... except for floor mats.

However, it makes the house easier to clean.

You and Grandpa have been in my thoughts very often, even more so with the approach of Thanksgiving and Christmas. I am making something I haven't created in ages. Can you guess what it is? Yeah, I'm making the cornbread dressing this year. Jazz is going to try her rendition of a sweet potato dessert. Grandpa would definitely be a fan of that.

I know you aren't a fan of planes and the bus ride would have been too long, but I sure wish you had the opportunity to see where and how I lived. Sure, you expressed how proud you were of me, but to see that the guidance and lessons you and Grandpa provided paid off ... that's a different swelling of the heart.

I am doing my best to be in the holiday spirit. To do so has been rough. 

We are having company for Thanksgiving, so in some ways, it's easier to get in preparation. I've taken time to re-organize certain items and put up other items for donations.

I attempted to get the VVA (Vietnam Vets of America) to collect the boxes, but both times, they failed to show up without an explanation. I was disappointed because I'd given them so much in the past. I could not understand why they didn't show up; it's not like they've never been to my house before.

I decided to donate to the United Breast Cancer Foundation. They should arrive on Monday to collect the boxes.

I found a great deal on the deep 9x13 Pyrex baking dish, so I bought it at ShopRite. ShopRite is equivalent to Kroger down South, I think. I purchased this one as a backup, since years ago, a Pyrex dish exploded while being used. It was the square one (8 x8). I still tease Jazz about it, telling her not to blow up any more glass bakeware 🤣🤣🤣. She has a cool sense of humor, which is a plus. The world is too serious in this climate, and you have to be careful what you say.

I am excited to test out my new mop next weekend. Sure, we have the Swiffer (I know ... in your opinion, not real mops), and it helps in a pinch. For me, it doesn't feel the same. I'm accustomed to water and using my own cleaning solution. What I like most about this mop is that the clean water is separated from the dirty water. Plus, there's a mechanism that rings out the mop. This is helpful because of the arthritis. Also, who wants to touch the mop head, even while wearing gloves? 

I hope that my pace is balanced. Sometimes, I aim to do one task ... then before I know it, I've done ten. Sure, I don't have to clean two rooms in a day. However, when I get into a rhythm, I lose track of time and ignore cues. I am doing better. Writing down my goals and breaking them down into smaller, measurable tasks assists in more efficient time management.

I'm getting tired. I will sign off now. Cleaning is therapeutic for me. I needed someone to share my achievements with. 

I know you get it; you always have.

I love you. I miss you immensely.

Until next time.