Nothing could have prepared me for this semester. I knew it was going to be tough. I was taking the capstone in both of my majors, one I was looking forward to and one I was terrified of. (I will let you guess which one was which.) That was big, big enough to be life changing (especially the way I approach my classes). Then the ground came out from under my feet.
So I started this semester single, I've been single now for a year and a half. This is the first time that I have been single for more than a few months in my dating life, and you can do the math, but let's just say it's been a while. I have never dealt with big stuff alone before and that caused me some problems. I also started this semester off as a new grandma. The baby is now pushing toward 7 months. The dates are now a bit fuzzy because all of this happened so quickly, but I will give it my best to give it justice. I got accepted into Diversity and Explorations, I opened the email of acceptance and freaked out. I couldn't speak, I smacked my friend Aaron and made him look at the email. I walked out of class tears rolling down my face. I also won the Praxis scholarship. Two things I applied for at the beginning of the year and I was really happy and felt affirmed to have been awarded them. The scholarship was for activism in the LGBT community, which I have been committed to for a long time and been an organizer since arriving in Manhattan. The acceptance letter was for a program at Harvard Divinity School where they accepted 38 people this year to visit, sit in classes, go to workshops, meet alumnae, meet current students, meet faculty, take tours, see key note speakers and lots more, but I will get there. I was buried in school work but really happy that my work seemed to be paying off.
The next day my daughter, the 16 year old momma, had a fever. We couldn't get it to break. We knew she likely had a UTI, she'd had them before and we knew the symptoms. I gave her lots of cranberry extract, pro-biotics, and water. She was taking ibuprofen and it seemed to get better, then it got lots worse. Her fever kept hitting 104, the take 'em to the hospital number. It stopped breaking with medicine. She was shaking and looking terrible. She went to the emergency room. I stayed home with the baby, scared for my baby but the hospital is no place for a healthy infant. They said she had a kidney infection and they were keeping her. They started running cold saline through her and packing her in ice as well as maxing her out on fever reducers. Then to treat the infection they were giving her antibiotics, which kept not working. I have never felt so helpless in all of my life. Seeing my baby in a hospital bed, feeling terrible, with tubes running in and out of her, the medicine not working was terrifying. I put aside the resentment I have with the relationship I have with my mom and called her because all I wanted was my mommy. I was a wreck. My mom came up with my grandma for a night so I could have someone to lean on. After a few days, the newest antibiotics were working finally, her fever was being managed minus the ice packs. The infection was clearing up, the quit using the cold saline and opted for room temp. She should have been ready to go home, but she still couldn't eat without throwing up and her temp kept spiking. After a scan of sorts they figure out her gallbladder is not working, doesn't look like it has been for a while. She need surgery, so mom and grandma come up again. They hang out with me while I wait for her to come out of surgery after they pushed the time back over and over again throughout the day. A routine thing, but after the mess my baby had been, it was still more than I could handle alone. She gets better comes home.
I am doing my best to get back into a routine, and get caught up (I missed a mid-term and a paper). Three days later, mom calls... "You're grandpa is having kidney failure. He is in the hospital and they have one more medicine they are going to try. We will know tomorrow if it worked." Tomorrow comes, it didn't work. They don't have any options, grandpa goes to the hospice. Mom calls again, "pack up the kids and come home if you want to say goodbye." I pack up the kids, I borrow a friend's car, and we head to KC, home for all intents and purposes. I get to spend my grandpa's birthday with him, which my 11 year old shares. The family is huge, many of them I am meeting for the first time. Uncle Manuel comes from California, my cousin who settled out there comes home too. I keep trying to do my homework, I can't focus on it. I am glad to be surrounded by family, it has been a while. I wrote them off long ago, but sorta forgot to tell them. They don't know why I haven't been home in 7 years. It feels so good to be around these people. It's so nice to have a family again, and they never left I did, but it was like I never did. I head back to school, my other home where I know I will wait for the call to tell me he passed.
On the road, I-70 near a Lawrence exit, the car starts to die. The dash lights flash like the alternator isn't working, bummer, but not a huge deal. I pull over and pop the hood. The car is on FIRE. "Kids get out of the car." I run to grab the baby in the car seat. I run them far from the car. I get my phone. I have the oldest call some family in Lawrence to get us. I use a blanket to put the car out. An elderly couple, an off duty fire fighter, and a police officer all stop. They help me secure the car. The cousin collects us and all our stuff from the side of the road. The youngest has called her dad during the ordeal, crying because it's scary to get out of a car that is on FIRE. He drives to Lawrence with his girlfriend to collect me and the youngest. We can't fit the oldest and that baby. They will stay in Lawrence with the cousin, and we will head to Manhattan. I don't like this idea, but I am not sure what else to do. I get home at some ungodly hour and I am a wreck. My friend is freaked out about her car (she didn't tell her parents she loaned it), how will she explain why her car is in Lawrence, her hometown, without her? I am trying to help her get a tow. I am trying to get my daughter home. My mom goes to get her and takes her back to KC. She does not want to be there without me. She gets her boyfriend's sister to go out and get her and bring her home.
The whole week I can't leave the house. I get dressed in the morning. I have such a big panic attack I can't get out the door. I go back to bed, drink tea, stare at the phone and wait for it to ring. A week later it does. Grandpa has passed and it's time to pack up and head back to KC to do the rosary, the wake and the funeral. I have to buy black clothes for my kids who have grown too big. I pack for a week, and I have to be smart. I get to wash these clothes and take them to Harvard. Yes, it's time for that now. I get to cry and be with the family. My mom loses it. She loves her dad, we all did, and he loved us all too. I have 33 first cousins on that side of the family, so there were a lot of us to love!
The kids head home, I spill coffee in my phone, I hike to the mall and get a new one. A couple days after the funeral I am headed to Cambridge. People wonder if I should do it after all that I dealt with and I think I can't miss this. I get off the plane. I figure out the subway, I get off at Harvard Square. Wow. I ask for directions to the hotel and hike over there. I get checked in. I meet my roommie for the next few days. She is an army veteran, she is interested in theology and veteran care. I was worried, I'm older than the average student, and gay. She is younger but not young, and not concerned about my queerness. We get up to our room and figure out where we are going. We get lunch and the program starts. The 38 of us introduce ourselves, I am surrounded by really cool people. The definition of diversity makes me happy, there are people of color, veterans, queer folks, atheists, and people from lots of religious backgrounds. We will journey together for the next 3 days. The experience feeds my soul. Before this I don't know how I am going to get through this semester, I am feeling defeated, I am feeling alone, I am not sure if I have it in me to get it done. 3 days at Harvard and I feel affirmed, the work I do is important, surrounded by other people who want to study theology, their work is so interesting and inspiring. I meet students, alumnae, and faculty who open the door to worlds of new possibilities. I sit in a classroom and realize that I am perfectly capable of doing this work and I want to be there. I see where I want to take my ministry. I talk to UU ministers and folks who want to be ministers and we talk about the future of the religion, and I talk about being attractive to a more diverse audience. We have different ideas and we are all intrigued and interested in asking about the others' theories and work. I see myself as peers with these folks. I leave the program and stay with friends, we go out to dinner and a little restaurant that cooks local stuff, I am not an alien because I don't eat meat. Their house is adorable, it's been a year and it's nearly done with their remodel. We are in Jamaica Plains great neighborhood. We stay up late talking about my trip, theology, and my research. I am researching solidarity among trans activists (final version of the paper done in a couple days). The most rewarding research I have ever done!
So back at school and still pushing through. Taking some incompletes so I can finish during break. Then taking the GRE and finishing my grad school applications. Too damn crazy, and there was so much more. I'm still not sure how I am still standing... seriously, what a semester!!
