An update on May 4, 2006:
After a day of deliberation, I tossed some clothes in a bag, called in some nonexistent personal days at my temp job here in Tempe, and hopped on the earliest eastbound plane to Michigan. By Friday afternoon, I was standing in a driveway in Clarkston, MI, right back where I started, still reeling from a distance that took 4 days when leaving and 4 hours coming back.
But it was the right call. My grandmother died that weekend, faster than even the doctors predicted but with tremendous dignity and grace.
The entire family was gathered together. Her husband of 62 years. Her 5 sons and daughters, and spouses, and grandkids. The lights were dimmed. The house was full of sad but stoic midwesterners, old photographs and flowers. The old clock above the sofa continued its loud tocking. No one was so dramatic as to stop the pendulum from swinging when she breathed her last breath. The world continued in its slow rotation.
Given her diagnosis, acute lymphoma turning into leukemia, I feel that this was actually the "best" that could've happened, both for her or for us. The other alternative was weeks of drawn-out suffering and round-the-clock vigils. My grandma was not the type that liked to keep people waiting. The last of a long line of cool-headed, kind-hearted Norwegian farmers, she lived her whole long life by the philosophy of "That's the way it goes. Life is pretty good. It could be worse... It could be worse..."
The service was held the following Tuesday. The town's Methodist pastor gave an eloquent and touching eulogy.
On Wednesday, I was back on a plane headed West...
So that's the news from Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above-average. Meanwhile, I'm back in the blazing heat of Tempe, AZ, planning the same move I'd been planning before the rest of this came down.
Thanks to help from relatives, my brief return to Michigan only cost about $50, but my next few months are still as uncertain as ever. In 45 days, I'll be leaving this sunny valley by a westbound freeway.
I can't tell you any more about where I'll settle, because I don't know myself. I'm aiming towards Seattle by way of San Diego north through Oregon, if only to have a direction in which to wander.
To continue the switchboard metaphor, I've been living a very muted life these past 5 months in Arizona. Soon it'll be time to kick open some of the old circuits and crank up the volume again.
I'm still looking forward to another great summer.