I lost my Pap, my Mom’s Dad, last Saturday. It’s been a week, but it hasn’t really settled in. Still has yet to hit me, feel real. The funeral was last Thursday and the viewing last Wednesday. Neither of which I could attend from 11,000 miles away here in Madagascar. My family lives in rural Central Pennsylvania (PA), home of sweet corn-on-the-cob, and delicious fresh foods. One of my favorites is “Green Fried Tomatoes.” When I say my family can cook, I mean they CAN COOK. Best Pumpkin Pie ever. Everything from scratch, made with love, and lots of margarine.
Beautiful rolling hills of PA
My mom’s family is interesting. There’s nine siblings. My Mom is second oldest, but oldest girl, which means she did a lot of childrearing, herself, growing up. Not too different from Malagasy families, in fact. I, as a single child, of course, have no clue what that’s like. My Mom’s Mom died many years ago, and I never got to meet her. I think I got a lot of my personality from her though. I’ve heard she liked bright colors and wrote poetry. Her already being gone means Pap was the last one left. Now, of course…
Losing my Grandpa during Peace Corps is hard because I can’t be with my family. I want to support them, and help them. My Mom is single, with no other children, and I should be there for her. I also want the camaraderie, solidarity of being with everyone right now. My Uncle Gene flew in from Montana, and I haven’t seen him since I was 11 or 12. I want to hear stories of him, his glory moments, how we built Route 50 going to Ocean City, MD, how he liked gardening. It’d be nice to remember his healthy times. Last time I saw him, it was hard for him to talk much, but I did sit with him for a while. When I tried explaining Peace Corps to him, he began a story about his time in the Military in Panama. That was fun to hear about, and basically my last memory of him.
I am one of 30+ cousins, or grandchildren, of my Pap. For the greater part of my childhood, I was the baby. I got picked on, “baby-ed,” spoiled. My Uncle Steve would pretend to drill screwdrivers into my head when I was 3, and my Mom called him, “Uncle Teaser.” My Aunt Doreen babysat me when my Mom was job searching. I owe her a lot. My Uncle Kent lived with us more than once, and has always been a role model for me. He encourages me to follow my heart, and actually, thought Peace Corps sounded awesome for me. So did my Uncle Nevin, who could relate to me, after his Service in Afghanistan, where he learned to appreciate a new way of life, doing Youth Development through Boy Scouts. My Aunt Donna and her husband drove me up from DC more than once over Thanksgiving to make sure I was able to see my family. [My Mom lives on the West Coast, but I still wanted to see her family.] They took care of me, and I wish I could be there to take care of them in this time.
My Uncle Nevin & I at Buckwheat Pancake Tradition ’12
Then there’s my cousins. I love them. We’re so different, on the outside, but they teach me to have fun, enjoy life. I’ve always been their “zandry”, like a little sister, and they’ve always taken care of me. No matter when I come in from “the city,” they’re always welcoming and treat me like I’ve always been around. Guys, be strong, and know, I’d be there with you, if I could. When I get back…
My cousin, Sabrina and her son, Aiden, last time I visited
People here say, “He was old. It was time, so it’s not sad.” While I agree, he has been suffering for a while, there’s still a selfish part of me that wishes I got to say bye. I feel bad I didn’t call. Thank God I sent two post cards to say “hi” since I’ve been here. The guilt in being far is still present though.
Of course, part of the appeal of going abroad, is “escaping”. Escaping what? Life’s problems, challenges, old tiffs, reality, as you know it. Truth is, that’s impossible, and it’s only temporary. More so, it only becomes more complicated when you run away. I knew this, and now I feel guilty that I’m not with my family, when I should be. Then regret encroaches.
Why did I come so far to help others when some days it seems like my help is unwanted, when I should be there for my own kin? Questions arise. Where are my priorities? Is this right? Did I ditch my family? Am I ungrateful, for all they’ve done for me? I know this is my calling, my dream, sometimes I just wish I could be in two places at once…
My Dad liked to point out that this was a known risk of my leaving to go so far. I knew that, and took many pictures of my Pap over my last visit to PA in November 2012. Thankfully I brought them with me. I told my friends at Site that he passed and many of them knew exactly who I was talking about. They said, “The one from the picture!?” It was nice. They could relate.
Five of my [Malagasy] friends also visited me at my house and brought me envelopes with money, which is Malagasy tradition, when someone dies, or gives birth. It was very, very nice. I never expected them to give me money. It was my friends who sell coffee, bread, fruit, vegetables, clothes, and one has a small store up the street from me. I was shocked by their graciousness. They came to me to perform Malagasy tradition, and it was a huge honor. I felt another step integrated into my town, and included. Like they saw me as a real person, experiencing a challenge, and wanted to give me strength. I felt them feeling my emotions. It was moving for me, and I will never forget it. I also learned one of my favorite Malagasy words, “Mahereza”, which means strength.
Thank you everyone, in advance, for your support. Gordner family, I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you this week, but you are in my thoughts and prayers. I think about you every day. Everyone I meet her I tell about him, from coffee sellers, to bus drivers. We honor him. Thank you, Pap, for giving me life. I’ll keep gardening, and eating, in your honor. You’re one of the strongest, most hard working people I know, and I know where I get it from. Thank you for all you did over the years, and asking my Mom, when you talked, while I was here, “How’s my Granddaughter?” I felt your love in those moments, and will still call upon you. Sleep well, love you.
Go Gasy or Go Home 