It rushes by in the dark

Growing up, towards the end of the summer every year , Emily’s mom’s side of the family all got together in Vail to celebrate her Grandma’s birthday. She is affectionately referred to as Grandma “J”. J is for Judine. She died a number of years ago from Pancreatic cancer and this past weekend Emily and I went to Vail to celebrate her just like she always did growing up.

The weekend kind of snuck up on us and before we knew it we were driving out of town. We enjoyed a great evening with my new boss and friend Mike at his place in Eagle and then headed to Vail on Saturday. We bought flowers for Grandma J and Emily remembered with me. She told me how her grandma loved to be involved in surprises, how she got to take Emily to her surprise birthday party one year and how she always got a Christmas gift for every person in the entire family. She told me of some special conversations they had and some things her grandma told her when she was young that she’ll not forget. And we grieved her together. Me for the first time and Emily for the millionth.

And then we walked around Vail Village, took the gondola up the mountain and walked the trail they always took when there. We sat on a log just off the trail and wrote a birthday card to her. And we grieved what was lost and how she would never know us together, never know our kids or be able to celebrate future birthdays with us. We buried the card under a fallen log.

We both cried some and I started to remember my grandparents who have died. My dad’s folks Esther and Abelino.

I thought of the relationships lost and of all the laughs that would not be shared. The tender moments that would be missed. I haven’t had to experience much death in my life but the grief of losing a grandparent seems to be a little different. They are the anchors of families and their passing seems to set us adrift. And we go on drifting until we are found anchored again, usually by our parents, who by that time are nearly, if not already, grandparents themselves.

I thought of my brother and his new son Xavi. And that my parents have become grandparents and my grandparents great grandparents for the 6^th time. And I thought about how life is like a river at night. When you approach it you’re a little surprised to find it rushing by just like in the daylight. It’s almost natural to think it would stop, or at least slow, in the dark when you’re not looking. But we all know it races by and the water we wake to tomorrow is not the same that we fall to sleep with tonight.

And then I thought about my mom’s parents. My grandma and grandpa Smith. I lived the joy that they know and love Emily. That they danced at our wedding. That I am still anchored by them.

And I remembered how one of Emily’s family friends told her mom that she saw Grandma J dancing with joy in heaven during our wedding. I get to thinking how, one day, we’ll join her and we’ll all dance together. Grandparents and parents alike. And how we’ll get to tell them about all the moments we wished we’d shared and I imagine that they’ll tell us they were there. That they wouldn’t have missed it.

And I hold to the hope that one day we’ll all be together, free from the ugliness of death and filled with the joy of life eternal.