Love Ya.

I have reached home and this will be my final blog. These past two weeks I have left behind and been left behind by some of the most beautiful people that I know. My final day in Kathmandu was spent running all around town trying to see all of my friends one more time before I said goodbye, quite possibly forever. I went to Durbar Square and told two merchant friends of mine that I would be leaving and I wish them the best of luck. One said he would be back to India soon because his seizures have gotten worse and his family can help take care of him, then he said thanks for the luck. My other friend was an older woman with three little girls all under 10 and one baby boy. I have played with them for many months, spinning them and throwing them in the air, we had a lot of fun. As I was leaving, the mother handed me five purses that she would normally sell and insisted that I take them home for my family, despite my attempts to give them back. Moved by their act of kindness, I gave them my jacket to use for the rest of the winter months and then I headed on. Soon after, I ran into my little street friends playing on the sidewalk, but as I try to say goodbye to all of them I see one 11 year old start shoving this probably 19 year old around and then all of the other boys started to fight him. He throws a couple of them to the ground but then the boys start grabbing bricks and then they slowed down and began to talk. It was later resolved and I told them all to be careful and I will try to return soon. They all said goodbye and continued on with their day. Then I move toward Jamal to say goodbye to my street family. We talk and laugh with each other for a while and then I tell them that I must go; I give them a bag of rice and they give me two beautiful flowers. We hug and say goodbye, uncertain of our next meet, if ever. That night, we are lucky enough to have power until late. We drink and dance and eat good food and don't even think about tomorrow when it will all be over. As I leave the next day, I feel that I could solve all of Nepal's water shortages with my tears, even when I was sitting on the plane, still on the ground, there was an incredible drive to get off and go home, go home, go home, it was clear then that Kathmandu is home as much as Alaska is, my love for both is equal and I will do all that is in my power to go back and see my friends and family there.
Through a series of events I happen to make it home about a day earlier than expected. While I waited in Vancouver for my next flight I called Mom and let her know when she can pick me up.
"Hey can you come get me at 1:15 tonight?"
"Oh! sure but there is a problem."
"You can't come get me?"
"No I'll come pick you up come hell or high water but there is a problem."
"Well, I was going to say just get me some numbers from my cell and I am sure one of them, what do you mean a problem?"
"Your grandma is dying."
Grandma has been dying for years. Hell, technically we are all dying, she was just a bit closer to the exit, what did that mean? "Yeah?"
"Uncle Mike says she may not make it through the night."
I land, I sleep, I pack, I fly. When we get there, she is still alive but it is clear that it is not easy and it won't be long. My mother and I enter the room and it is an oven, heated by the warmth of brothers and sisters come to say goodbye to their mother. It is a bitter sweet reunion, excited to see everyone after such a long time, but never forgetting the circumstances. I hug and kiss everyone and then I see her, breathing like a puppy in the middle of a dream, I think about what she thinks about, but she is non-responsive: I will never hear her voice or see her eyes again. The next day is gorgeous, sunny and warm and with more family arriving, it becomes an even prettier day; this will be her last. As I sit, I look at all of my aunts and uncles gathered here and I am in awe of their strength, collectedness, and unity, their mother would be proud. Soon the nurse comes in and checks blood pressure.
"75 over 56..."
Then it echoes through the room.
"75 over 56?"
"What did she say?"
"75 over 56."
"75 over 56."
"75 over 56."
This is it. She now begins to gargle with every breath, the sound of water circling the drain as her life begins to slip. The nurse comes again and checks the pressure. It has gone back up, she was many things but she was never a quitter and we all appreciate the moment, revealing grandma in her true form: a woman of true strength and determination. However this does not last long, and soon her breaths become fewer, and then fewer, and then none at 7:25 p.m. Sunday February 8th. Her funeral was three days later on Wednesday and I have complete faith that it went exactly how grandma would have wanted it, her children knew her well. Looking around the church I see all of the lives that have been created and or touched by this one soul and I know that the world is now forever changed by her through all of us. The family is together now for the first time in a long time, we laugh we drink we eat we drink we cry we drink and we smile glad that grandma no longer suffers and truly thankful for what she has given us all. The next day Mom and I leave for the airport, but before we do, we make a stop at the graveyard to say goodbye to grandma, grandpa and dad. It was difficult, not just saying goodbye but also digging in the snow with my foot to find Dad's headstone.
toe toe toe toe HEEL toe toe toe HEEL. My foot was cold and soggy but I was happy. I am sorry if my spelling or structure is terrible but I am tired and am freestyling right now, so please forgive me. Well, this is it, I am done. I may keep writing in the blog but it will only be because I have grown fond of it and I believe that it will help me with my writing. I thank you all for everything that you have said to me for almost the past half year and I will never forget it. I love you all and I will talk with you later, Seth.