Ding.
An incoming
text alerts me to look at my phone.
“The Dr. called and said he is
deteriorating rapidly,” reads a message from my Uncle Phil about my Grandpa.
I start the car.
Celebrate good times,
c’mon! blasts from the radio.
The irony of the situation makes me laugh outloud. That’s exactly what Grandpa would want right
now: Celebrate the good times. The memories.
The laughter. The hugs. The Brazilian stories. The walks.
As I drive to Kaylee’s school, my mind floods and the dam breaks behind
my eyes.
Just last week I sat next to his bed in a Canadian hospital, held his
hand, placed the hospital bib around his neck so he could eat without spilling,
and watched as this man who means the world to me still made me laugh and smile
yet the reality of the situation sunk deeply.
A rough fall. Broken jaw. Ribs.
Arms. Shoulder blade. Brain bleed. In a split second with a face-to-face meeting
with the unforgiving concrete, he went from his routine mile walk around Mill Lake to a
hospital bed. We wait. Not out of the clear yet.
It was his name I wrote on my leg as a 19-year-old for
inspiration on the day I ran 12 miles in the middle of Ansel Adams Wilderness
in California. It was his amazing story I
wrote about that won me $100 in an essay contest as a freshman in college. It was his life I watched as an
impressionable child that inspired so many of the choices I made and make. It was his frail hand squeezed around my squirmy,
pig-tailed and smiley 15-month-old last week that made me say, “It is well with
my soul,” knowing full well the fragility of life.
I am forever indebted to him. And I’m so grateful he knows that. Words flowed between us with
The brain bleed creeps in like a snake on the prowl. The doctor says he has 24 hours. But even death can’t snuff life. The life he gave to every person around him
through his 92 unbelievable years shines, radiates and continues. That light can’t be extinguished, and I hope
my life reflects my gratitude to him and his example to me. Grandpa exemplifies this: “Everywhere
we go, people breathe in the exquisite fragrance. Because of Christ, we give
off a sweet scent rising to God, which is recognized by those on the way of
salvation—an aroma redolent with life” (2 Corinthians 2:15). He lived a life that smelled better than a
million roses after a gentle rain.
And through my grief-stricken, overwhelming-gratitude tears,
I sing, “It is well with my soul,” and we WILL celebrate the good times. I love you, Gramps!!!
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| Last week with Gracie: sweet exchanges |
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Kaylee giggling because Grandpa was going higher than her! |
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