I just received word that our offer was accepted on the Old Goat Road property!!! There are a few contingencies, so we're not cracking open the champagne just yet, but our fingers are crossed! There is much more to write, but this whole grief thing is so foreign to me that I am having a really tough time functioning normally. I can't seem to focus on any one thing for long, am having a hell of a time making decisions (thank you to Marc for deciding the food for Danita's evening reception), cry - and I mean cry - at the drop of a hat, or when the barrista at Starbucks asks how I am, and have not slept peacefully through a night yet.
But, this news is good, and so I want to make sure I share it, despite how ambivalent I feel right now.
What a strange thing life is.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The End
 |
| Danita and her daughter, Rach. |
So he is holding one hand, and her twin sister is holding the other. Danette made clear a few days ago that she wanted to be in the room when her sister dies. She said, "I was holding her hand coming into this world and I will hold it as she leaves it." I can't even pretend to imagine the connection they have shared for 52 years (their birthday is in 3 days).
She is gone. Just hung up with mom and the nurse can no longer find a heartbeat. She is gone.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Jessie Made It
Jess arrived at 11:00 am and Danita was coherent enough to know that her youngest daughter was there with her...
She is fading in and out of consciousness, but as the day goes, she is more out than in. We are all praying now that her body will let her go soon so she can stop hurting.
She is fading in and out of consciousness, but as the day goes, she is more out than in. We are all praying now that her body will let her go soon so she can stop hurting.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Horrible, Horrible News
This is probably not the most appropriate venue to discuss this, but I need to.
If you have been following, my parents (who have also decided they want to give the country life a go), J and I made another trip up north to look at the property I posted last week. The night before we left, my dad called me to update us on my aunt Danita's status. She was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer several months ago, and has been treated in California, Mexico and now Arizona since then. Because it was stage 4, she needed to act quickly and intensely, and so has spent the past 6 or so months of her life recovering from her rounds of chemo and radiation (forgive me if some of my facts are off; I'm not thinking this through as I write). She is a fierce-spirited woman, and one that I admire deeply. She has a passion and strength about her that made it easy for us all to believe that even at stage 4, she would kick it's ass. But the update, contrary to the healing that she had been experiencing, was bad. Because of all of the rounds of chemo, etc., her kidneys were shutting down. She had filled up with fluids and the doctors had already drained a few quarts from two places in her body. If, they warned, her kidneys did not begin to function on their own again, she would die.
The next day we drove up to Paso and did our normal drive-bys and met with a guy about a barn, etc. It was less than exciting with the heaviness of Danita's status, but we also heard from my dad's brother that afternoon that she had stabilized throughout the night and was coherent and feeling relatively better. We all went to bed with the hope that she would kick her kidneys' asses as well, and pull through.
Sunday morning breakfast wasn't even done before the call came: dad needed to get on the soonest flight to AZ because her kidneys weren't regaining function. Danita knew what this meant, and told her husband that she would like to see her family one more time. She has 8 brothers and sisters, one being her twin sister and best friend, and another being her big brother, my dad. She and her twin are the second youngest. They are still considered the babies of the family. We found a flight out of San Luis Obispo airport for 12:20, and though none of us had any desire what-so-ever to see anything now, we had an appointment and a few hours before the flight.
All that to say, we spent about 45 minutes at the property, but none of us really saw anything. We had all these plans and cameras and measuring devices and charts to map out the acreage, but we couldn't do any of it. We looked at it, walked around a bit, and then left. I want to say it is wonderful and everything we've been looking for for the past 5 years, but I honestly don't know if it is. It was like we were there, but we weren't there. I forgot the questions I wanted to ask; I forgot to see if there was a decent place for chickens; I forgot to walk around the property line. None of it even mattered in the face of Danita's (and her family's)struggle. It actually felt pathetic and ridiculous and meaningless. My aunt is fucking dying from the medicine supposed to cure her, and here we are, shopping for our future. How does that even compute? Even writing this, I cannot comprehend how she can be dying - and know that she is within hours of her last breath in this life - and I am on my couch, fireplace on, dogs sleeping at my side, and very much alive. And tomorrow I will get up, make coffee, kiss j goodbye and say, "Have a good day, babe" and then go to work. Like I do every other day of my life. As if no one at all was dying in a hospital bed, too young and too innocent, surrounded by people who will never, ever be the same again.
My dad just sent my siblings and me an email at 5:00 tonight, saying he just can't pull himself together to call. The doctors give her no more than 72 hours to live and they can do nothing more but try to keep her comfortable. She is still lucid at this point and saying her goodbyes to her brothers, sisters, mother, nieces, nephews, husband, daughter and son. They suggested doing it now in case she loses consciousness in the night (because she will never wake up). Her youngest daughter, Jess, can't get there until 10:00 am tomorrow and we are all hoping madly that she makes it in time for them both to say goodbye. My dad thinks she will wait to die until Jess gets there.
Death is a strange thing. It is the only thing that is as natural and certain as birth, and yet, when it comes, no matter how young or old the person is, we don't know how to handle it. It's as if we've never even heard of the thing called death. That is how unequipped we are to deal with it. Why is that? Why is it the one thing that absolutely can be counted on in life, the one thing as certain to every single living thing as life itself, is the one thing that terrifies and destroys us more than anything else we will ever face? We can't even talk about it, for God's sake. We say things like, "passed on" or "no longer with us" or "expired" even. Anything but "dead." Our language is full of euphemisms for death and dying, which allows us to ignore it and safely avoid even acknowledging it most of our lives. But then what do we do when it finally happens? And it will finally happen. To every single last one of us. We end up here, where I am now. Confused, scared, angry, shocked, paralyzed - anything but what we need in order to accept it as an absolutely essential part of every life and then grieve the way we are meant to.
Sorry this has nothing to do with the blog, but I sat down to update and this is what needed to come out. If most of this doesn't make sense, it's probably because I can't make sense out of most of this.
If you have been following, my parents (who have also decided they want to give the country life a go), J and I made another trip up north to look at the property I posted last week. The night before we left, my dad called me to update us on my aunt Danita's status. She was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer several months ago, and has been treated in California, Mexico and now Arizona since then. Because it was stage 4, she needed to act quickly and intensely, and so has spent the past 6 or so months of her life recovering from her rounds of chemo and radiation (forgive me if some of my facts are off; I'm not thinking this through as I write). She is a fierce-spirited woman, and one that I admire deeply. She has a passion and strength about her that made it easy for us all to believe that even at stage 4, she would kick it's ass. But the update, contrary to the healing that she had been experiencing, was bad. Because of all of the rounds of chemo, etc., her kidneys were shutting down. She had filled up with fluids and the doctors had already drained a few quarts from two places in her body. If, they warned, her kidneys did not begin to function on their own again, she would die.
The next day we drove up to Paso and did our normal drive-bys and met with a guy about a barn, etc. It was less than exciting with the heaviness of Danita's status, but we also heard from my dad's brother that afternoon that she had stabilized throughout the night and was coherent and feeling relatively better. We all went to bed with the hope that she would kick her kidneys' asses as well, and pull through.
Sunday morning breakfast wasn't even done before the call came: dad needed to get on the soonest flight to AZ because her kidneys weren't regaining function. Danita knew what this meant, and told her husband that she would like to see her family one more time. She has 8 brothers and sisters, one being her twin sister and best friend, and another being her big brother, my dad. She and her twin are the second youngest. They are still considered the babies of the family. We found a flight out of San Luis Obispo airport for 12:20, and though none of us had any desire what-so-ever to see anything now, we had an appointment and a few hours before the flight.
All that to say, we spent about 45 minutes at the property, but none of us really saw anything. We had all these plans and cameras and measuring devices and charts to map out the acreage, but we couldn't do any of it. We looked at it, walked around a bit, and then left. I want to say it is wonderful and everything we've been looking for for the past 5 years, but I honestly don't know if it is. It was like we were there, but we weren't there. I forgot the questions I wanted to ask; I forgot to see if there was a decent place for chickens; I forgot to walk around the property line. None of it even mattered in the face of Danita's (and her family's)struggle. It actually felt pathetic and ridiculous and meaningless. My aunt is fucking dying from the medicine supposed to cure her, and here we are, shopping for our future. How does that even compute? Even writing this, I cannot comprehend how she can be dying - and know that she is within hours of her last breath in this life - and I am on my couch, fireplace on, dogs sleeping at my side, and very much alive. And tomorrow I will get up, make coffee, kiss j goodbye and say, "Have a good day, babe" and then go to work. Like I do every other day of my life. As if no one at all was dying in a hospital bed, too young and too innocent, surrounded by people who will never, ever be the same again.
My dad just sent my siblings and me an email at 5:00 tonight, saying he just can't pull himself together to call. The doctors give her no more than 72 hours to live and they can do nothing more but try to keep her comfortable. She is still lucid at this point and saying her goodbyes to her brothers, sisters, mother, nieces, nephews, husband, daughter and son. They suggested doing it now in case she loses consciousness in the night (because she will never wake up). Her youngest daughter, Jess, can't get there until 10:00 am tomorrow and we are all hoping madly that she makes it in time for them both to say goodbye. My dad thinks she will wait to die until Jess gets there.
Death is a strange thing. It is the only thing that is as natural and certain as birth, and yet, when it comes, no matter how young or old the person is, we don't know how to handle it. It's as if we've never even heard of the thing called death. That is how unequipped we are to deal with it. Why is that? Why is it the one thing that absolutely can be counted on in life, the one thing as certain to every single living thing as life itself, is the one thing that terrifies and destroys us more than anything else we will ever face? We can't even talk about it, for God's sake. We say things like, "passed on" or "no longer with us" or "expired" even. Anything but "dead." Our language is full of euphemisms for death and dying, which allows us to ignore it and safely avoid even acknowledging it most of our lives. But then what do we do when it finally happens? And it will finally happen. To every single last one of us. We end up here, where I am now. Confused, scared, angry, shocked, paralyzed - anything but what we need in order to accept it as an absolutely essential part of every life and then grieve the way we are meant to.
Sorry this has nothing to do with the blog, but I sat down to update and this is what needed to come out. If most of this doesn't make sense, it's probably because I can't make sense out of most of this.
Friday, February 10, 2012
This is the property we are heading up to see tomorrow
Looks like at least 3, maybe 4, farmable acres on this land. Pictures at this website don't show the whole acreage, but you can get the idea.
Here's the link...The Property
Here's the link...The Property
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Don't get discouraged. Don't get discouraged. Don't get discouraged.
So as I think I mentioned once before, turns out being a farmer can only be done if you first struck it rich in some other job. I have been researching lavender and olive trees like a madman, and I keep coming up to the same wall: either will cost roughly $100,000 to start. Call me crazy, but for some reason in this whole adventure, I never actually considered that starting a tiny farm could cost so much. And, due to the rules of dear ol' Mother Nature, there are no profits for a few years at the start. Shit. So how the hell does anyone become a farmer? It's so bizzarre to me to think about how expensive it is to live like a freaking peasant! Each round of property searches takes us a little further away from any kind of town, because that is the acreage we can actually afford. Ok, we're fine with that. We just better never run out of anything because the closest store will be a broke-down Quick-y-Mart that only sells cigarettes and Bud Light. I can deal with a Bud Light breakfast as long as I have my farm to tend. But Bud Light and 4 acres of barren land? Screw that.
We are heading up to the Paso Robles area (I'm calling it that but in all honestly, where we can afford is way, WAY east of Paso) again this weekend to look at 5 acres and meet with some lavender and olive tree farmers, but I already know the story: without tens of thousands of benjamins, all I can farm are my own dreams.
And maybe buy one chicken. But without buying a coop for it, it will be dead the first night. Nevermind. No chicken.
We are heading up to the Paso Robles area (I'm calling it that but in all honestly, where we can afford is way, WAY east of Paso) again this weekend to look at 5 acres and meet with some lavender and olive tree farmers, but I already know the story: without tens of thousands of benjamins, all I can farm are my own dreams.
And maybe buy one chicken. But without buying a coop for it, it will be dead the first night. Nevermind. No chicken.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)