There were three weeks in October 2021 when our life was a roller coaster. Most of 2021 had been roller coaster-ish, but these stood out as particularly large ups and downs.
One Saturday, I had emergency surgery to remove my gallbladder. The day before the kids and I spent a wonderful day at my friend Ruth’s house, and we went to bed soon after we got home. I woke up at 11:43pm, and it felt like someone set my gallbladder on fire. I had abdominal pains for most of 2021, and the doctors confirmed it as gallstones only a few weeks before this. Based on previous flare ups, I knew that if I called the nurse’s line, they would tell me to take some pain medicine and wait 45 minutes to see if it helped. I did that and waited one hour before calling. The ibuprofen didn’t even take the edge off the pain, and when I called the nurse’s line still in tears, they instructed me to come to the ER.
Afa took me to the ER but was not allowed to accompany me due to Covid restrictions. Standing on the scale felt impossible, and the pain intensified as I went through triage. By the time they got me to a bed, I was tucked into a fetal position sobbing. The ER staff were excellent. They gave me much stronger pain medication at which point I remember thinking, “I might actually survive this.” And over the course of the next few hours, they were able to determine that the best course of action was to remove my gallbladder completely. The surgery team was excellent, and I was able to go home about 20 minutes after I woke up from surgery.
Afa and the kids were amazing over the next week as I recovered. Even Finiasi, who is usually glued to me, was careful and would snuggle close to me, put a hand on my abdomen, and say “Mommy, I be gentle to you tummy.” He knew he couldn’t sit on my lap or sleep on my chest and was very patient as I healed.
The biggest issue in the timing of this was that seven days later Afa was supposed to drive his parents to live with his sister in San Bernardino. In a week where there were preparations and packing all over the house that needed to be done, I couldn’t stand or walk properly and couldn’t lift anything. I stayed cuddled on the couch reading countless books to the kids while Afa and his mom did all the work around me. Afa’s sister and brother flew in at the end of the week to help with the move. They packed everything up on Friday night and left at 4am on Saturday to drive everyone down. They made the trip safely, praise God, because there were a lot of risks in driving Grandpa that far.
I was very grateful that one of my friends came over to stay with me while Afa was helping with the move. Over the previous few months, as we had lots of family visit, the kids’ room had become a mess that I simply avoided. I would close the door and pretend it wasn’t there. Since we only had the boys with us, my friend and I spent hours cleaning and organizing their bedroom and getting it back into working order. I was so grateful for her help. We accomplished in a day what would likely have taken me weeks to do, especially after surgery.
The following Saturday we participated in one of the most beautiful weddings I’ve ever seen. Our niece Vanessa was married at her parents’ house in San Bernardino, and no detail was overlooked. I was grateful for the opportunity to be involved in such a special event. Afa officiated the wedding; and Ana Lia was a flower girl while Eliam was a ring bearer. Ana Lia also participated in one of the hula dances during the reception. I got to meet so many people in Afa’s family that I hadn’t met before, including his Aunt Ana whom Ana Lia is named after. As I think back over the roller coaster that was these few weeks, this is undoubtedly the highest crest of them all. It was a weekend of absolute joy.
Of course, following such an amazing weekend that next Wednesday, I had an all world meltdown because I couldn’t find enough teachers for Children’s Ministry at church service. But the tantrum wasn’t actually about finding teachers for Children’s Ministry, if you know what I mean. It was the emotional build up over the previous weeks (and months if I’m being totally honest) that all came spewing out while I was trying to get the kids ready for church.
Afa suggested I get some help from a friend at church, and after she listened to my story told me that I was likely dealing with grief. The revelation made so much sense to me and helped me find a direction moving forward. Each time I walked past Grandpa’s empty bedroom, a wave of sadness washed over me. Grandma was the first person each day to say good morning as she walked past my desk. I missed her. It felt strange to say I was grieving for someone who was still alive, but I had spent every day with them for years. During quarantine, we had been together with the kids 24 hours a day for a year. They were an integral part of my life and family, and suddenly they were both gone. It left a hole in my life.
The first week was especially hard because we were transitioning to a place where I no longer had help with the kids during work. Grandma had done so much for us while she lived here that almost every moment I was reminded of her absence. She helped the kids with all their little requests like snacks, potty, and outside playtime. She cooked dinner for us each night and always did the dishes. The first time I did the dishes after she moved out, I cried because the change in our lives felt so heavy.
He heals the brokenhearted
Psalm 147:3
and binds up their wounds.
My time in the Bible that week focused on verses of comfort and loss. There were times when I felt like it was stupid to be reading verses on the brokenhearted, like imposter syndrome, almost as though my loss wasn’t real because it looked different than my conventional view of loss. Then I remembered the wise advice of my friend – that grief can take many forms. Refusing to grieve the loss because it was atypical would only mean that I walked around with my emotional wound longer than necessary. I took time to pray through it and allow God’s comfort to wash over me.
As the days passed, it became easier to settle into a new normal for us. We haven’t done anything with Grandpa’s room yet, but there is no rush to change it. The kids have learned to be more independent with snacks and meals. Ana Lia figured out how to make hot chocolate and lemonade for everyone when I told her I wouldn’t have time to help with those things during work. We call Grandma everyday for a few minutes before we start homeschooling. It gives us a chance to connect and say “I love you.” We talk to Grandpa several day a week too, and their traditional Tongan greetings are a highlight of the kids’ day.
Transitions are not necessarily bad, but they are almost always hard. I am grateful that my parents in law are in a place where they have so much support, but I miss them terribly. I’ve discovered that it is okay to have both the positive and negative emotions swirling around simultaneously. And that’s grieving doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s in order to be valid.