A rainbow can have as many different meanings as there are raindrops that fall from the sky. It's the covenant between us and God protecting us from a wiping-out-the-entire-human-race-minus-a-few rain storm. It's the path Leprechauns follow to gold and happiness. It's a man named Roy G. Biv who helps teach children the color spectrum. It's a refraction of light on water droplets. It's the symbol of the end of a storm and the dawning of a new, more fruitful time. It's one of the many ways nature can show both its wrath and beauty in the span of minutes. Sometimes it's all of those things and more at once.
These past few days have definitely led me to feel the full spectrum of human emotion--the good, the bad, and the ugly. On Friday, September 18th, Ty and I took a roundabout way home to Western Kansas in order to celebrate the life of my grandmother.
Because it's a 15 hour drive to Sharon Springs from Nashville (not including traffic) we decided it would be better to fly so we could have more time with family without missing so much school and wearing out our vehicles. So, we did what any logical human being would do, and flew from Nashville to Denver, and then rode from Denver to Sharon Springs, cutting our trip time in about half.
Ty and me pre-blast off. Funny anecdote about that... just the Thursday prior, one of the priests was talking about flying, and he said, "Don't pray for me, pray for the pilot! If he makes it, we all make it." So from now on, the 2938473 Our Father's I say before flying are for the purpose of the pilot's safe journey!
When we landed in Denver, my cousin, Madeline, and her husband, Brayton, were there to pick us up. They're currently living in Denver, so it was really nice of them to let us hitch a ride to Kansas with them. I really enjoyed catching up with them, hearing how their classes and work were going, and meeting their new "child", a very even-keeled Toy Poodle named Daisy.
By the time we got to Sharon Springs it was already around 8PM, but we made time to eat some delicious cheesy jalepeno dip that my mother made, to socialize with Dustin, Kayla, Sophia, and Dominic, and even hang out with my sister Savanna(h), her manfriend, Tyler, and his little man, Tyler Jet. There are too many Tyler's in this family. (Savannah and Tyler, if you're reading this, can I call Little Ty "TJ" from here on out?)
That night was actually a ton of fun, because we were all so excited to see each other and catch up. Also, because we discovered that multiple people in our family have alter egos. For those of you who don't know, I have an alter personality named "Rattlesnake Sue." The rootinest tootinest rattlesnake killinest cowgirl there ever was. Well, apparently my dad has an alter ego that is THE Hulk Hogan... and little Ty becomes little Hulk. I'm pretty sure the thing that won over Little Ty (TJ?) was dad literally ripping off his shirt and saying, "I am a truuueee Americannnn!" So I'm not sure why but little Hulk didn't like Rattlesnake Sue, and we had some fun with that. Little Hulk/Little Ty/(TJ?) also taught us some sick dance moves. I'm not sure where he learned them, but I need to meet up with his teacher! This kid could actually incorporate wiping snot off of his nose into a pretty fluid dance move without batting an eyelash. (A talent that would come in handy now considering I caught his cold, and boy is it a doosy.)
The next day with all that fun behind us, we got up, got dressed, and headed out to Grandma Hoss's house for the first time since her passing. I'm not sure what I expected to feel, but it just kind of felt weird. When I walked into her house, I was flooded with that warm feeling I always get from stepping into Grandma's house. I spent so much of my childhood and early adulthood there, with mostly pleasant memories. My pleasant memories were colored bitter with the knowledge that a home is just a house when the people you love aren't there.
So we milled about the property, finding odd jobs to do until it was time for Gram's Celebration of Life. Paul McNall, a local non-denominational pastor led the celebration. He presided over both my grandpa Hoss's and grandpa Mitchell's funerals. Gram also found great comfort in him, from praying with him for her daughter, Maralee, or speaking and praying with him as she battled cancer. It was great to have him there. His wife played the accordion, an instrument my gram always loved, to the song Amazing Grace.
Since I'd written a visual narrative from an interview with Gram, my aunt had asked me if I wanted to speak at Gram's Celebration of Life. I said yes, because I really wanted to find a way to honor my grandmother, but I had so many doubts. Would I do her justice? Would I be able to keep it together? Would people think that someone else should have spoken? Would my talk be too long or too short? All doubts aside, I gave a short talk that maybe lasted a few minutes (something I think Gram would have liked) I made it through without totally breaking down, and when I finished, people clapped. I'm not sure whether people usually clap at funerals because I haven't been to one in quite a while, but I'm guessing that means I did alright.
After I gave my talk, my aunt, Lisa, read a poem that Gram had written about death back in 2002. I might be paraphrasing, but this is what Lisa said, and I totally agree: "When I first read it, I thought it was about death in general, but as I'm reading it now, I'm realizing that she was writing about her own death." I'll put her poem in another blog post, because it really is beautiful.
At the end of the service, we did a balloon release with bright yellow balloons. Grandma loved bright colors, so it was perfect. I think most people symbolize balloon releases as taking prayers and messages up to heaven, but I kind of thought of it as Gram's last act of adding beauty to a place that seemed so morose. Like her bright spirit had carried on through those whose lives she had impacted. Maybe that's just me being sentimental.
When it had drawn to a close, we all made our way down to the shop to share a meal among family and friends. (Is it really a Hoss party if there isn't food and beer involved?) I met some family I didn't even know I had, and shared some thoughts with some of my closest loved ones.
Dakota refusing to let me get a candid picture of him.
My cousin Isabel, the self-proclaimed "starving artist" and Dakota together.
My husband and three-weeks-younger-than-I-am cousin, Chance.
And my aunts and uncles. Joke intended. If you don't get it, you're definitely not related.
After Gram's celebration of life, I walked through the prairie by her house on my own, and I cried. I thought of my gram and how I'll miss her dearly. I thought of how I was walking through the countryside that she loved so dearly. I thought about how life changes so much, how short it all is, but how long at the same time.
Thoughts like that stick in your heart and can destroy you, so I make an effort not to dwell on them for long. I gave myself the walk from the pasture to the shop, and that was the end of it. Then I let my mind wander to more pleasant topics.
Like this pretty little girl's smile.
Or how amazing it is that kids can find such happiness beating the crap out of a literal piece of crap with a baseball bat.
Or how everyone can find joy in new life, no matter what age.
Or how being around children brings out the child in us all. Which reminds me of these verses (Matthew 18:1-5) 1At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. 3And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."
Before all the family had left, we met once again atop the hill to spread Gram's ashes across the prairie, which had been her desire. The Catholic Church believes in spreading ashes over a permanent place, and typically family farms don't qualify. This was different. Grandma wanted to be spread over God's creation, and what could be more permanent than that? Before we spread her ashes, family member took turns sharing thoughts and feelings about Gram. Some were short sweet words, some were brief and deeply felt, some cut short by unbridled sobs, and others yet were quirky anecdotes--all were a perfect testament of our grandmother, great-grandmother, mother, aunt, and friend.
The day ended on a good note. My cousins, Isabel and Michelle, stayed at grandma's house that night with my brother, Dakota, my husband, Ty, and me. My uncle, Wyatt, came over and chatted and before the night was over some new family friends showed up and we spent the night talking about all things country.
After the movie we visited my sister, Savanna(h), and her manfriend, Tyler, at their home in Sharon Springs. It's always weird visiting my baby sister when she's living her grownup life. We had a nice "grownup" talk and then Ty and I headed back out to grandma's house.
Another morning was upon us, and our time in Wallace County was passing so much more quickly than I had intended. Mom and Tucker came to see us before they headed back home to Manhattan, Kansas. Ty and I continued cleaning and going through pictures, we spent some time visiting with Dad and Wyatt, we went to Goodland to run some errands, and we brought the night in teaching Ty about how silage is made and used. (It's the next topic for Reminisce Visual Narratives, so stay tuned!)
Ty watching from his perch on Wyatt's flatbed pickup.
Wyatt's dog, Snoopy, waiting for some pets.
Dad standing in front of the bi-directional he was using to make/form/pack the pile of silage.
Dad and Wyatt driving tractors over the pile, even as the sun sets.
An artistic depiction of tractor headlights.
The silage chopper pouring freshly chopped sorghum into the truck.
Sadly, after that night, our last day in Western Kansas was nigh upon us. We spent the next morning packing and working online (for me) and studying (for Ty). We had a brief conversation with my uncle, Wyatt, said our goodbyes, and headed thirty miles West to my dad's house. Before too long, we were driving to Denver.
Dakota met us in Goodland for our "last supper" in Kansas for the time being. It was at Steak n' Shake. (We keep things classy 'round here.) I had a buttery burger (the South is growing on me) and we had a great conversation. Dakota's going to school for respiratory therapy, and I am so proud of him for how hard he's been working at his part-time job, CNA classes, and his actual classes. Now that I'm typing it, I'm so impressed at how busy he's been, and I'm sure he'll continue along the path to success, whatever that means to him personally.
Ty, Dad, and I left from Goodland and made the three-hour-long trip to Denver where we stayed the night before getting up (too) bright and early for our 9AM flight to Nashville. I kept things interesting by booking a hotel 22.1 miles away from the airport (I thought it was 2.21 miles away) and (almost) losing both my phone and driver's license. Thank God my head is attached. Thank God Ty and Dad were patient with me. And Thank God I found both my phone and driver's license.
On a more unfortunate note, over the last couple of days, I've developed a raging head cold, so our going away picture looked more like this:
Of course Ty looks handsome as always. I resorted to the duck face since smiling was painful.
I guess I always have mixed feelings about Wallace County and now's as good of time as any to reflect on them. I've had more than my fair share of hard times there, and made more than my fair share of mistakes growing up. I'm still growing up. This trip was made even more complex since we were going home to say our final goodbye to Grandma Hoss. But, like Gram, I find so much peace and beauty in the prairie there. The prairie is my rainbow. It's faced so many hard times: drought, flash flood, fires, winds, tornadoes, extreme heat and cold, the heavy force of people, animals, vehicles, and heavy machinery, blinding light, the darkest night, and more, but somehow it's still there, still persevering, still producing beautiful food for livestock, and for our souls. It's God's untouched creation laid out before us, his masterpiece for the few of us lucky enough to lay eyes upon it. So as long as there's a prairie out there in Wallace County, even through all the happy and sad moments, there'll always be a home there for me.
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