Allowing Life and Death to Collide

In the past month, a truly amazing journey and somewhat of a treasure trove of history has happened to me. Through a death of my dad’s mom and a 60th anniversary celebration of my mom’s parents, I’ve heard countless hours of family history and whole heartedly fell in love with stories of love.

Although I asked probing questions when I was younger about my grandparents and how life was growing up in their era, I still don’t really feel like I know them as well as I wish. If I could have any superpower, it wouldn’t be flying. Instead, I’d move like seabreeze and float back in time so I could be a fly on the wall and really get to know my relatives. I'd also take notes on how to really love because I believe my grandparents had it figured out.

Reading through my grandpa’s letters to my grandma during her funeral weekend, I realized how much he loved her. I know that the day she died was the second happiest day of my grandfather’s life (the first being the day he married her).

Pondering on that weekend, I realize how fortunate I am to have also experienced my other grandparents 60th anniversary. A few weeks earlier, I saw the love of 60 years in their eyes where dancing, laughter, and life was another memory that will never be extinguished. That memory will be chronicled, carried on and remembered.

Stories of love, sadness, loss, happiness, humanity, insanity and truth have filled my presence in these last 30 days. And although exhausting, the emotions I am feeling are innately human. They forge bands of voices and connections.

However great or small we choose to live, I’ve learned that we must live it with decency, honesty, and love. We must remain true to our heritage and to the spirit of its telling.