Time
Jan
'08
You always think you’ll have more time. You woke up one morning ten years ago and made goals for your life; you’ll be a good student, you’ll ask all the right questions, you’ll get over your inexplicable shyness with your family. You’ll forget the fact that you didn’t grow up really close to everyone and pretend for a while that you actually are part of something wonderful. You forget how isolated you are.
There was another morning that I woke up and thought I would be able to ask my grandparents about their childhood. My grandmother has five sons and no daughters; I wanted to know what she would have named a girl. Our family is so keen on recycling names that I wonder if she wouldn’t have adopted a name from her lineage, or would she have brought in something completely new and beautiful? I wanted them to recount the story of how they met, when they got married, what my father was like when he was a child. When I woke up that morning, she was walking on her own, feeding herself and her family, and she may have answered my questions with gripping storylines and admirable character development.
They aren’t storytellers. I don’t know what makes me believe I have that blood in me; they can recall a memory with clarity, but they can’t convey the emotions or vividness of color. I kick myself sometimes, however, when I try to figure out why I didn’t ask her those questions that morning I woke up. Why hadn’t I asked those questions since then? All the opportunities I have had to say “thank you,” to hold her and tell her how much she means to her family are gone.
I was told that my cousins don’t visit her very much. It’s upsetting. They think that they have time, too. They’re waking up with goals they feel are more important than stopping by and saying hello to the matron of their family. They might wonder, too, what her oldest brother was like, but instead of breathing in the moment and asking her now, they’re going to wait until they’re old enough to realize their regrets.
Thanksgivings were wonderful and I don’t think I ever said “thank you” at the dinner table. I meant to. I thought it. But I also thought I would have time to say “thank you” later. The food was great, Grandma, and I’m sorry I missed out on it all those years I wasn’t eating meat.
My thoughts are scattered and I can’t seem to put them into place. It’s unlike a puzzle; using the word “puzzle” assumes that there is a correct and proper way to put the pieces together, that if it’s not complete it means there’s an appropriate piece missing somewhere. No, it’s not a puzzle. It’s more like the wind. Dandelion seeds. They all started somewhere, but who knows where they’ll end up or whether or not something will actually come of them.
When you go on a trip, sometimes it’s planned, sometimes you just go where life wants you to go. I wonder at people who plan their lives as if they could set in stone when and how events can take place. I can make reservations, but the events leading up to my 7:00 dinner at an expensive French restaurant may change the course of my life forever. The people who have passed through my life have been my companions on this trip. I like to think that my grandmother will have someone to hold her hand as she continues her journey. I wish, though, that I’d already asked who that person might be, that I hadn’t thought I had all the time in the world to ask her of her desires, her wishes, her past friends, and her beliefs.
I wish her book wouldn’t close so soon, just when I’m realizing how little time there actually is.
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You are making me cry, Michelle. You are reminding me of my beloved Grandmother. And all the times I wished I hadn’t wasted while she was still alive.
Jan
'08
This is a beautiful, beautiful post. I’m really sorry.
*hugs*
Jan
'08
Michelle,
It has been a good while. I am not pleased (for lack of a better word) that I have come to find you in mourning, for I know the pain and regret that can receive us with such loss. Though, I am happy for your renewed perspective. However heartbreaking this is in present, I believe it is a blessing for anyone to be reminded of just how precious life is.
Seems that many people in my circle have been experiencing life changing relationships, and situations… As much as it has pained us all, it seems we’re coming out with our chins up and eyes opened. Sadly, much of life can pass us by until something so abrupt strikes some sense into us.
Funnily enough, I just found this:
“As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn’t supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it’s harder every time. You’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You’ll fight with your best friend. You’ll blame a new love for things an old one did. You’ll cry because time is passing too fast, and you’ll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you’ll never get back.
Don’t be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin!
Jan
'08