We've all heard this countless times. Usually it comes in the wake of something tragic as a means of rationalizing, putting a positive note on a horrible event.
My grandmother passed away this weekend, the first terrible experience I've had of this caliber. Naturally, I was told everything happens for a reason. Instinctively, I denied the claim.
But imagine this. My grandmother lives in Montana and has medical issues. The doctors want to send her to a specialist and inform her of the destination: Seattle, Washington.
Seemingly decent enough, the bugs aren't being fixed. Quite the opposite actually and she takes a completely unexpected turn for the absolute worst and our family is called in essentially to say goodbye. My mom, aunt, uncle, wife and I all fly in and spend the weekend waiting. In any other city, this is a normal story. There's nothing fishy, wowing, or coincidental. But this is Seattle, Washington.
Seattle. Home to my grandmother's (who we call Vava) sister. Home to my mom's favorite uncle growing up who she lost connection with more than a dozen years ago. Home to five families of cousins my mom, uncle and aunt spend an entire childhood with...
Of all the cities in the entire world, it was Seattle, Washington.
For as shitty of a reason as you can possibly get to bring a family together, fate seemed to know exactly what it was doing. Three days of waiting in agony turned into three days of reconnections. Three days of telling childhood stories. Three days of memories, learning, roots and family. And for as shitty as the ultimate outcome was, I had a good time, meeting new family and spending close time with old.
Vava reconnected with her sister. My mom reconnected with her favorite uncle and my Tia (her sister). None of this happens without Seattle.
Okay, so maybe it's the situation and not the city that brings the family together. Immediate sure, but all the cousins, aunts and uncles? Doubt it.
Now they say people choose their time. At any given time there were minimum five people in the room with Vava. Her sister was quoted as saying she didn't want to be there at the moment. I was torn about staying or going, being there during or not. So fitting, that after fate takes me away, returning me back to Cali, negating my decision-making for me... the one night of the entire week my mom and uncle decide to stay by her side over night rather than return to their uncle's... it was her time. With only her children. In the middle of the night. No one else to burden the pain with. Vava chose her time.
And then there's this...
It was snowing, raining and miserably cold (so I hear) in the week leading up to Vava's passing. I left Sacramento Friday in the pouring rain. I arrived in Seattle, famed for it's constant rain, welcomed with sunshine. It remained sunny and clear the entire weekend. Vava passed, we all went home, and Seattle finds itself with sub-zero temperatures... Vava chose her time.
The funny thing is, Katie and I decided about a year ago we are over California and want to move. The joke was to Canada. But in case we couldn't swing Canada we needed a back up. I eliminated the East Coast. She Middle America. Southwest is hot and undesirable. That left the Northwest. She vetoed Colorado and Idaho, I did the same for Oregon and Montana. That leaves? Why, Washington of course. The joke remained a joke until we went. It was only three days worth, but I think I'm ready to leave Cali behind.
Fate brought the family back together. Fate opened my eyes to Seattle.
At home I felt guilty. Guilty for not calling enough. Guilty for the last time seeing Vava walking around, talking and sassy as hell was a year and a half ago. I said goodbye and told her I loved her, and I'm sure she heard me (or I will rationalize that she did and like it) but I would kill for a response. One final response. And from the moment I found out to the moment I went to bed Monday night I felt that guilt and sadness...
...until I dreamt of conversating with her; Vava telling me it was okay. She told me she loved me, told me to be tough now and to take care of mom. And then she told me goobye.
Not even my subconscious is that good.
Seattle happened for a reason.
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