Beginnings and Endings

I sit here with my fingers perched on home row, hoping that I can capture some of my heart's feelings in writing.  The eloquence that I long for at this moment will most likely be out of reach.  And mostly because Life is most eloquently expressed in the experiences we have, ultimately transcending the limitations of human language.  Our lives are a continual convergence of stimuli, senses and emotion.  And, like color, scent, touch and sound ignite the deepest of feelings and evoke the tenderest of memories, Life also cannot be fully understood until it washes over you.  Hence the purpose of mortality--to experience that which cannot be understood, nor appreciated in any other way.

And so, in spite of my inadequacies in expression, I write.

First of all, thank you to all you well-wishers out there.  The emotions I have felt this week are full-spectrum. The excitement and anticipation of sharing the news with our families became tender very quickly in a phone call with my Grandma.

A little background:  The original plan was to let our parents know in person when they came to see Aaron graduate.  But, then last weekend, I received a message from my Mom stating that my Grandpa was in the hospital and not doing well.  While we were in Kenya, he suffered a stroke and has been on a steady decline since then.  In light of this, we shared our good news on Mother's Day, to make sure that my Grandpa would also know in the event that he might not make it through the week.

As I spoke to my Grandma the next day, she was heading home to an empty house.  She needed some rest in something more comfortable than a row of chairs at the hospital, where she had been sleeping the previous few nights.  She needed to clear her mind and think about the things that were taking place in her life, and the decisions she needed to make with regards to my Grandpa.

My Grandma is one of the strongest women I know; she's not just my grandma, but a kindred friend.  As I listened to her talk, the anticipation of life and death sat before me.  And I saw it in a way I haven't--couldn't--before.  I felt the whole joyful purpose of our existence wrap itself around me in a warm, yet bittersweet, light.  The beginning and the end were before me, and my Grandma and I, each in our own way, facilitators.  The purpose of it all suddenly more poignant and sweet:  Birth, and giving birth.  Death and being watchful thereunto.  And everything in between.

The feelings of my childhood, adolescence, young adult life as well as hopes and dreams of the future have swirled around me for the past several days.  And, as I got news today that my Grandpa passed away, I felt a chapter of my life come to a close.  Not that I can't ever revisit those pages of memory in fondness, but the circle of life continues on, and we, too, must progress.

And so I sorrow for the loss of an era, an epoch, and for the man whose love, concern and diligence made it an idyllic one.  We will meet again--of that, I am sure--though the time, place and circumstances will be different.  And while I shed tears for time far spent, I am grateful for the "everything in between."  It has blessed my life more deeply than I perhaps deserve.  I am grateful for the hope of my immediate future, and of the one afar off.  And for my Savior, whose life made ours--and all we experience--possible.

I love you, Grandpa.