Grandpa

Memorial Day hold a special place in my heart. My grandpa died on Memorial Day five years ago.

I was very lucky and knew my Grandpa VanderZand very well. He and Grandma lived less than 3 miles from us when we were growing up. She died when I was in my mid twenties but Grandpa lived until I was 32. He was 90.

The day my grandpa died was just another day at first. I had the day off of work and was helping my friends, who had gotten married two days before, move their things into storage before they took a month honeymoon and then returned to stay with me for a few weeks before moving to WI for grad school. I was driving down Burton toward Calvin college (just a couple blocks from the house my husband's parents live in, although he and I weren't dating at the time). My mother phoned me and I answered while driving. I no longer answer the phone while driving for any reason. She told me that my grandpa had died. I must have scared my friend Alexis because I swerved out of the left lane and pulled into the nearest driveway, which happened to belong to one of the houses I admire most in Grand Rapids. I began to cry as soon as the car was stopped and remained on the phone with my mom only a few seconds longer.

His death came as a surprise to us. You would think that we would have expected it since he was 90, but he came from a family of long livers. His brother died later that week at 92 and his sister had lived to be over 100. Grandpa still lived alone and had no assistance in his living. He could still do all the things he needed, still had full use of his mind and body. He was a little stiff, suffered from emphysema, but didn't need oxygen regularly, and was fairly fit for his age. One of his favorite things to do when he would meet someone for the first time was to ask them how old they thought he was. Unless they had a reference point, like my dad standing there, they would guess up to 25 years off! He looked great!

My grandpa was always either laughing, talking politics sternly (the only Democrat among a family of Republicans) or tearing up a bit at the memory of my grandmother, whom he loved dearly. My grandpa was also the spiritual patriarch of the family. He and Grandma were the first Christians in their families and they lived out that life as an example for all their children and grandchildren- and for my grandpa, two of his great grand children.

My husband and I have a ritual of praying in bed just before sleeping. Last night, he prayed not only for our unborn child, but for the grandchildren and great grandchildren and any descendents we would have. I began to cry a bit, partly because I am pregnant, but partly because I wondered if my grandpa had prayed for me from the time they were expecting my father. I bet they did- Grandpa was a praying man.

The rest of that first Memorial Day, I spent with my friends. I worried that I was putting a damper on their day as they had just gotten married and were looking forward to a honeymoon. I called my best friend, who came to spend time with me that night, who knew my grandpa and loved to talk about her favorite "cute, little, old man." I needed to be around people and my friends were wonderful. I discovered that my grandpa had died of a heart attack in his sleep in the early hours of Memorial Day. He was expected at my parents' house for dinner that day- everyone in the family was there except for him and me. When he didn't show up, they called his house. When he didn't answer, they though he might not have his hearing aid in (bad habit he had). No one ever thought he might be hurt or dead. My dad and aunt went to the house to see what was up and my dad found his dad in bed. He wouldn't let my aunt in until he had adjusted my grandfather a bit- he looked like he had been pinched, was in a position of feeling pain, and my dad didn't want that memory in my aunt's head. They then called the police and then family.

Memorial Day is a day to remember those who gave themselves for us. My grandpa was in the army in WWII, but that isn't his greatest gift to us. His greatest gift was that he gave himself first to God and then to his family. He loved and prayed for every single one of us and was loved by all of us. I remember my grandfather often, but especially this weekend.

Maternity

So, I had a pregnancy dream last night. I'm 18 weeks along today and this was my first real maternity dream, although it didn't actually have a baby in it.

I was walking through a department store of some kind. It had really high ceilings like a Bed, Bath and Beyond, with stuff on the walls ranging significantly higher than my 5'3" would allow me to reach. I went first to what I thought was a wall of car seats, but when I got close up they were really booster seats and washing tubs. I was approached by a sales person, but moved on toward the maternity clothes section.

I have never been a big clothes shopper; partly because I hated my body for a very long time and wanted to hide it in bulky wear, not knowing that those things just made me look bigger and less shapely than I actually am. I was also never into dresses and skirts until I reached my mid twenties and found that they were so very comfortable! Now, I dress cute and comfy and for my body type (although, I will admit that some of my skirts should be shorter to underplay my lack of height) and kind of like it, but still don't like shopping that much.

When I reached the maternity clothes in my dream, I walked about 2/3 of the way down the first row and saw the cutest shirt ever! It was a salmon-ish floral-ish lacy pattern with a scoop neck, ruching on the sides and a slight elastic at the bottom (for under the belly). I picked a large off the rack (which was notated "MNLG") and went looking for some slacks, as I need some for work. As I was walking down the rows, I took the shirt off the hanger and laid it on top of another rack of clothes. I think I was trying to rearrange things in my arms. When I turned around to pick it up, the shirt was gone. Not only that, but the entire display of those shirts was no longer in the place I though it was!

I spend the entire rest of my dream, which seemed very long, looking for this shirt. I asked for help from a couple staff members of the store and they tried to find the display, but couldn't. I walked through other departments and people asked me questions about sheet and automobile parts because they thought I worked there. I walked through changing rooms where women were modeling their maternity outfits for their entire family and friends, like you might with a wedding dress or if you are on a TLC show. I also passed the same woman several times as she shopped for maternity clothes. She wanted to buy two years worth because she planned to have another baby right away. The staff person helping her told her not to get ahead of herself because styles change and she was thinking that the woman might not have a second child. That woman had a room full of clothes!!! I mean, the size of my bedroom completely stuffed with hanging clothes. I thought maybe she took my shirt and wouldn't need it with all the other stuff she was trying on.

I never found the shirt.

This is one of a weeks worth of anxiety dreams I have had this week. My mother-in-law commented on facebook that I am so confident when awake that maybe my dreams release my underlying apprehensions. I'm not sure. Most of my anxiety dreams are centered on work, which is funny because I have worked at the same company for 13 years, have changed stores as many times, have worked in 4 states, and know my job so well I can do it on auto pilot. I almost never feel nervous at work. I have lost my passion for my job over the past two years as I look forward to soon quitting and being a full time wife/mother, but I don't feel anxious. Yet, I have many, many dreams about work and being out of control.

This dream was kind of pleasant, even if it was full of an unsuccessful search. I enjoyed looking at the women and the clothes and even interacting with the people who thought I worked at the store. I enjoyed the search, although it came up empty. But I guess I would still constitute this as an anxiety dream. Maybe because I have to buy some maternity pants in real life.