As our annual visit to Oregon approaches, my stress level is escalating, accordingly.
Going home is kinda hard.
We haven’t even pulled out of the driveway yet, and I’m exhausted. I grimace knowing that feelings are bound to be hurt, regardless of the marathon of visits that we squeeze between Little Man’s gauntlet of doctors appointments.
For various reasons this year’s visit will be primarily focused on family…
Husband’s radiant, heroic cousin recently succumbed to the vicious cancer she so valiantly fought for over two years.
One of my grandmothers is currently hospitalized from complications of her stage four cancer.
My only grandfather is slowly fading, and I am uncertain if he will actually remember us, this time.
Despite my sister’s best efforts, my trio of nieces keep getting older.
A close relation, who for over a year and a half has refused to meet Little Man, has finally agreed to be a part of our lives again.
So consider this a blanket disclaimer and apology if we don’t manage to see you this time. We still love you. And remember… you are always welcome at our place.