Holes

I went to the United States for a week and when I came back, one of my favorite shirts had become an insect’s dinner. And breakfast. And lunch. And probably dinner again that same day. Holes. Holes all along the bottom of all of my T-shirts, spread out through the cotton, looking like constellations in outer space.  

Holes. That seems to be happening a lot in my life lately. My Yiayia (Grandma in Greek) passed away and that was the reason for my unscheduled and quick visit home. When anyone passes, especially someone who directly or even indirectly shaped your life, it’s hard to get them out of your head. Yiayia has been on my mind, weighing on my heart. Holes.

She is in a better place now, this I am certain. But you can’t help but feel the hole she has left behind simply by not being here on earth anymore. It’s like you are driving your car down a road with a dug-out pit in the middle. It’s construction work, and so there are caution signs, cones to prevent you from falling in and even a detour sign to help you find your way again. Plenty of warning. You see the whole situation played out before you and so you follow the detour signs. Even though you understand that you have to go around the hole, things are different; you’ve changed your route. 

I keep thinking about how old she is in heaven. If you were alive for 98 years, are you 98 in heaven? Or do you get the choice to return to whatever age you want? Is she a little girl before she was married? Is she in her 30’s or 40’s when she was still raising her children? Or is she more like a formless spirit, meeting other formless spirits sharing memories about their time on earth? 

This weekend I’m hosting a girl’s group exchange weekend with five other Peace Corps communities. This means that five other PC volunteers are bringing 3-4 girls each to La Caya to have a mini-camp sleepover. The girls will hear talks about the environment, self-esteem, planning your future and because it’s the night before Halloween- we’re having a HIV/AIDS Halloween party. How do those two things relate? I’m not really sure either, but it’s going to happen that way. 

I’m filling in the holes to make sure this weekend will happen with minimal surprises. After I write this, I have to find Fran to ask her to cook for us. I have to secure a vehicle and a driver so we can go into Santiago so we can buy all the food and supplies we’ll need. I’m organizing my girls in La Caya to prepare a charla (or presentation) about their community and why it’s important for all the girls in the world to come together to be strong, courageous women.

Strong, courageous women. I know a few of those. And the one I’m hoping I can be is 98 or 12 or 37- years-old, watching me from somewhere- filling the hole I feel with all the strength she left for all of us on earth.