I cry

     Although I just posted a blog, it was written over a month ago now. I almost didn't post it because it all seems so trivial now. However, those thoughts were valid at the time, so I shared. That post was about some physical expectations I had for my year here in Madagascar. I wrote about how they weren't becoming a reality. Here's the thing about those complaints, although not achieved in Mada, I can still work on those things in the States. I can get a tan if I really wanted to (but who am I kidding?!), and I can work on getting my hair healthier and losing weight. So even though these expectations were not met in Madagascar, there is still hope for them. The bigger picture remains that none of that even matters because there is one huge expectation I had that will never be realized. I expected to come home and see both of my parents. There were even recent talks about meeting up in Europe after my time in Mada. But now nothing I do here or there, will make that a reality. As my mom recently put it, my dad “flew to heaven” on March 23^rd. No matter how elegantly you put it, the truth is heartbreaking and life shattering. I won't be seeing my dad again.

     Now all I'm left with are the messages we exchanged just weeks before. Some of our last conversations were about traveling after Madagascar. He told me about how much he loved Switzerland when he went. He said it was beautiful and encouraged me to add it into my plans. He was in the process of figuring out if he could get dialysis supplies there so we could all be there together as a family. He also told me about therapy. He said it was scary to be in a nursing home, but he was getting stronger, and sounded so driven! He told me about the goals he had set, and told me sometimes he could even talk them into sneaking in an extra therapy session. He sounded so good, so positive, and was getting better... On March 8^th, I told him I went on a hike and would be leaving the next morning for our second stop on our retreat. I told him I wouldn't have Wi-Fi, but that it was supposed to be gorgeous. He told me to take a bunch of pictures. And although I did, I will never be able to show him those pictures now. On the 10^th, he told me he liked my hairdo, and the next morning I woke up to picture of Garfield hugging his teddy-bear Pookie. The caption with the picture read “A hug for Pookie!” This was the last “hug” I would receive from my dad. On March 12^th, I missed a call from him. I did not call him back, and am left to dwell on that. On March 17^th, we exchanged 2 messages each. The 18^th, I got a message that looked like a typo, and a pic of a hospital room. At first I was concerned, but then I thought maybe it was his rehab room and there was nothing to be worried about. I found out later, I should have been very worried. And why didn't I try to call him? Why didn't I speak to him one more time? These are questions I'll never have good answers for.

     Now I'm back in Mada. and the memories are haunting me. Not that I don't want to remember my dad, but I'm ready to be out of the stage where I want to cry every time I think of him. The other night I was doing my exercise and as soon as the stars came out I got teary eyed because the stars made me think of him. He had a deep appreciation of the stars and always tried to teach me about consolations. I could never spot them like he could. He told me to keep an eye out for one that you could only see in this hemisphere. But now I'll have to rely on Google to remind me which one he was talking about. I can always see 3 stars in a straight line above my building so I tell myself its Orion's belt, but he would know for sure. I get stuck on the little things too, like when I think of the fact that I don't need to bring sakay back, which is hot sauce here. And although he wasn't suppose to drink, (and I've only known him to have one drink in the past 8 years, which was with me in the Atlanta airport.) I was still going to bring rum back. And we were going to have a drink together. But now...
And the fact that he encouraged me to be here, and was proud that I was here is great. But now I'll never be able to share everything with him. He wont see my pictures, and hear my stories. And that kills me.

     The other night I decided to count how many Wednesday's I had left to teach at one of my schools before I left. I realized that the 4^th of July was on a Wednesday this year. I thought to myself that I should ask my coordinator if it would be appropriate to stop work at one place one week, and stop at another location the following week. I figured I would explain to her that 4^th of July was my second favorite holiday, and I didn't really want to spend it working, And then I immediately thought of my dad and our mutual admiration for fireworks. And I cried. I thought about how last 4^th of July did not go according to plan, and we did not spend it as we usually did. Mom and I had a wonderful time, but dad did not come. And then I thought of all the “lasts” I had missed with him by being here this year. We did not go to Chicago's International Auto Show like we have done for so many years. I did not spend his last Thanksgiving with him. I was not there to be with him in the hospital for Christmas. He wanted me here, but I missed so much. And the fact remains that no matter what I do, I can not get that time back with him. And I cried some more.
     I feel selfish. I feel selfish for being here, and wanting to be here this year even though I knew his health was not the greatest. But in my wildest dreams, I did not imagine this outcome. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was giving a year of my life to do some good in this world. And now I'm here trying to deal with the fact that when I get home, my dad will not be there.

     We were supposed to go camping. We were already talking about Le-Aqua-Na. We would get stakes from the butcher he liked and have a great time just like in years past. We made fun of the place down the road that sold “hard ice cream”, but we would definitely enjoy some together. Camping was one of our things... I'm grateful for the time we spent together, but it wasn't supposed to be over yet. We were supposed to have years of camping ahead of us. We were supposed to have many more Thanksgivings and Christmases together. My heart literally aches knowing that this wont be the case.

     People say “remember the good times”. This is fine advice. And one day I'm sure I'll be able to focus on these thoughts. But what am I supposed to do now when every time I close my eyes I see him laying lifeless in that hospital bed? I don't sleep much, and I continuously get sad at random parts of the day and night. I'm not saying that I never smile or laugh anymore. There are times I'm happy and not thinking about this new reality. But those moments don't last forever, and I never know when I'll go from fine, to sad with no notice. I often wonder if I made the right choice to return. I know I would be sad at home as well. At least I have a purpose here, and I'm finishing my commitment. I would also like to think that my dad would have wanted me to return. In the two weeks I was in America, I was told a lot about how proud my dad was that I was doing this. But, it doesn't make this any easier. I think of my mom often. I think of all the things I could be doing for her if I would have stayed. My dad wanted me to come to Madagascar this year, but he also would have wanted me to take care of my mom. So now, I can only hope that I made the right decision. I wanted to come back to Madagascar because my time was not up, I was NOT supposed to be in America yet. Also, I love my placement and my host parents and the kids I work with, and I did not give them a proper goodbye. But if I'm being honest, I also thought it would be easier. I thought I would be away from the constant reminder. But it followed me...

So what do I do now?

I get up every day. I enjoy my time with my host family. I spend time with the younger kids who always seem to have a smile and a “salam tompoko” to share. I spend time with the older girls who love to have conversations with me and although I often struggle to understand, they are patient with me and keep trying until I catch enough of it to respond.
And I remember my dad. I remember all the good memories I have of him. I look at the pictures I have of us on my wall.
I get sad. I cry. And I do it all over again.

Expectations

     Google defines expectations as: “a strong belief that something will happen or be the case.” The example sentence that follows reads: “reality had not lived up to expectations". Expectations can be a tricky thing. I've been wondering lately what made me think I could form expectations for my year abroad before leaving. For starters, I had never spent any extended period of time abroad. Secondly, I certainly didn't know enough about Madagascar to be forming such preconceived notions. However, those facts didn't seem to phase me, or others I spoke to about my year in Madagascar for that matter. Many people I spoke to told me what they thought I would look like upon returning from a year away, and it all sounded good to me. Of course I had thought some of the same things, and hoped they might be true. But I have to say that hearing it from so many others certainly made me think the chances of these changes happening were pretty good. I started forming expectations for my year in Madagascar before I even left for orientation; before I left the country, before I knew anything about what my year would really look like.
     One thing I thought I knew about Madagascar was that it would be hot and sunny. I say “thought I knew” because wow is it hott! Yes, two “t” hott! I was not exactly prepared for that. It sure is sunny though (when there isn't a tropical storm directly to the East of you like there is currently as I write). Others must have thought the same thing. I heard “you're gunna be so golden when you get back!” a lot. I thought, heck yeah! I'm going to get so tan in Mada. It's going to be great. However, the craziest thing has happened here. It turns out, that I have the same desire to not get skin cancer during my time in Madagascar as I do when I'm home in the States. So I often find myself lathering up the sunscreen before spending any amount of time outside. Of course, this is Madagascar and we are told to hold things loosely for a reason. There are certainly times where plans change and the message doesn't get to me. Like when I show up to teach my 6 classes (inside) like I do every Wednesday, and get told it's National School Day which translates into spending the entire time outside. This of course turns into a sunburn, which eventually turns into a bit a tan for a few days. I also have to admit that I have a chaco tan line. Which is ironically something I expected not to get. So although I certainly have more freckles present than I normally do in March, I'm still rather pale. My expectation of returning super tan or “golden” as I was told, will unfortunately fall short.

     The biggest expectation I had for my year away is that it would really give me time to focus on weight loss. I was going to have a year away from temptations, and I would make myself exercise all the time, I thought to myself before leaving. This thought was echoed by many of my friends and family it seemed. I often heard “you're going to lose so much weight!”, and I have to admit I was with them on that thought. I had no idea what my diet here would look like, but before I got here I sure had my expectations set. I wrongly expected that there would be a lack of processed snacks. Those are my biggest downfall at home. So a year without them obviously meant weight loss. Unfortunately they do have processed snacks in Madagascar, and some really good ones! And yes, I have found them. Since being here, I have learned that habits don't just change when you cross a border. I still like to snack. I still eat when I'm not hungry, and I even still binge on junk food. These are things I'm not proud of, but they are the facts. I also don't love exercising here any more than I did in the States and I can still easily find an excuse not to. I struggled with these things at home, and they have followed me. For whatever reason, I expected to become a new person just by living in Madagascar. Another huge factor that I did not take into account when setting up this expectation of weight loss, is the fact that I basically have no say it what is served for my three daily meals. I can clearly remember one night when dinner consisted of white rice, french fries dripping in oil and a cucumber and corn salad which had vinegar, oil, and salt in it. It was that night that I realized I would not be losing all the weight I had expected to lose. The two main foods I eat at the table are carbs and oil. I decided then that I needed to give up on the expectation of losing an exceptional amount of weight. It just wasn't going to happen. I have no say over my food. And when I do have a say, I find myself choosing cheese balls, banana chips, and cookies. So any exercise that I can talk myself into doing, would be in effort of not gain any weight here. I had to let go of my previous expectation in order to protect myself from huge disappointment. I have since come to terms with this new thought, but it wasn't easy to realize this expectation would not be reality.

     The last expectation I was holding onto unfortunately is also falling short. After I realized I would not be losing a bunch of weight my thought was, well at least I'll be going back with nice long hair! I figured I wouldn't by dying it or cutting it for a year. That had to mean I would return with healthier, longer hair! Now I find myself not even sure of this. I lose So much hair every day. I can practically make a wig out of the hair that falls out whenever I wash, brush, or touch my hair these days. It's actually been a bit scary at times. So instead of super long hair, I might be returning bald! “Will you still love me if I come back bald?” is a question I sent my mom about a moth back. A fellow Mada. YAGM who is experiencing the same thing had a friend tell her she might be lacking vitamin B12 which is found in meat and many foods in the U.S. are fortified with it. So maybe that is part of the cause and all I have to do is pop some vitamins. We shall see.

     The fact is, making all these expectations for myself for my year abroad before leaving was just stupid. I had zero idea what my year would look like, why did I think I could predict what I would look like after it? The hair example is a small one, more funny than anything. The same goes for becoming golden. I'm pretty used to being pale. However, I honestly expected to lose a decent amount of weight this year. This has been the hardest expectation to let go of. When I return to the United States in August, I will not be super-duper tan. My hair will most likely still be on my head and will be longer than when I left, but it won't be healthier. Lastly, I will still be overweight when I return. And that is OK. It has to be. But I will have changed in un-physical ways. I will have grown exponentially. That is after all, way more important. This year is about growth. And although my pre-living in Madagascar expectations are not becoming a reality, I know I am still having an incredible year. A year I will never forget and will always be grateful for. So, screw expectations. Live for the moment, and be present.