“And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” Khalil Gibran
Yesterday would have been my grandmother’s 96th birthday. Last night was supposed to have been a birthday celebration, but instead it was something else. Just another day.
Just another day among the many days of our lives. Another day when I woke up and did my best to meet my obligations. Another day when I looked in the mirror and asked myself if I am leading the life I want to live and why I am not making the changes that I need to make to do so.
This blog sometimes reminds me of a pool of water whose depth is unknown. Sometimes the water appears to be still but things stir deep beneath the surface. And unless you are able to plumb the depths of those waters you can’t really tell what is happening.
The rules of the blog are simple. Be real, be open, be honest and be authentic. I continue to abide by those rules but I find myself engaged in more self censorship than before. Sometimes I feel as if I have been sailing through a storm and I can’t help but wonder how it is that I haven’t wrecked the ship
“Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.” Khalil Gibran
In a different life I once told a girl that it is not ego if it is the truth. She tossed her head back, rolled her eyes and laughed at me. We spoke about many things and shared some of the truths we keep hidden inside. I remember her telling me that she would bloom wherever she was planted but I don’t remember if I told her how that phrase reminded me of my grandmother.
Or how infectious her love of life and optimism were. They tapped into something. I don’t know if I am as optimistic. I want to be. I try to be, but I am not sure that I am. What I know for certain is that I have always gotten through rough patches because I am incredibly stubborn and exceptionally determined not to let things get the best of me.
Hmm..,Maybe that is ego, dunno. I just know that even if I wrecked the ship I would find a way to swim for shore. And when I got there I’d shake my fist at the sky. Somewhere in my baby book there is a story that my mother wrote down about a time when I was five years-old.
I got in trouble for something and as a consequence was sent to my room. Apparently I stayed there for a short while and then came out and challenged my father to a fight. It was my attempt to get out of the punishment.
See, even then I was a gambler and a fighter.
Sunday night I spent a chunk of time sitting with my grandfather listening to him speak about my grandmother and how he is adjusting to her loss. That song isn’t really the right one for this section, but I like it.
Anyway, it was surreal to sit at the home with him. He is in a new room and has a roommate. It is a new experience for him. For the past 75 years he had one roommate, grandma. Other than that there was the brief time he lived with his parents and the brief time that his children lived with him.
Sure you can argue that those weren’t brief, but for the last 50 years there really wasn’t anyone living with him but grandma. And now, there is a strange man sharing the room. So when grandpa told me that he thinks that the guy is a schmuck I understood.
And when he grabbed my wrist and softly cried about how much he misses my grandmother my heart broke because I knew that I can’t do anything about that but listen. I know about love. I know about broken hearts. I know about being a husband and a father, but what do I know about losing your wife of 75 years, the woman you met when you were 11.
He told me stories I already knew and then a few that I hadn’t heard. And then he surprised me and told me that he wants to travel. I was really happy to hear this. I am not sure if he is really up to dealing with traveling cross country now. Air travel has become exceptionally difficult and something that I find very unpleasant.
But I am a hair short of 41 and if need be I can stand all night long. He can’t do that anymore, but there are ways to deal with things, so who knows.