Remembering to say, "I love you."
My grandfather is dying from cancer. They've given him months to live, but nobody knows how long. He's in Louisiana and I'm in South Carolina. The last time I saw him was several years ago - before he moved from North Carolina to Louisiana. That was the last time I told him I loved him, I think.
After talking to mom last night and realizing how serious things were after just one round of chemo (nearly killed him), I began to remember . . . . . remember the times he pushed us around in the wheelbarrow and then let us have a go at trying to get it around yard, the time he scared me by showing up Christmas morning dressed as Santa and me too young to enjoy people in costume. I remember underdogs on the tree swing in the back yard, Grandpa cringing as I looked at him with my eyes crossed, him taking me to the doctor because I was fool enough to try to reach the bar on the opposite side of the swing set with my feet as I pumped my swing with all my might and the chain broke - I sprained my fingers.
My grandma died a few years ago and I remember too . . . the times I dove into her homemade stuffing and cranberry sauce at Christmas, listening to her read the story of Sacajawea to me for bedtime during our several day stay with them, parents out of town. I remember the jack-in-the-box (metal box) and kitchen set in their wooden toy chest. I remember a stuffed cat that belonged to my aunt. I remember the shower my dad built on the first floor for grandma since she couldn't climb stairs any more after her stroke. I remember her asking dad who he was and who we were, forgetting the names of her family. I remember hearing about grandpa visiting her every day in the nursing home in Louisiana - even when she didn't recognize the strange man in her room. I remember hearing that she had died and I had said, "Goodbye," and "I love you," years before when she could still remember.
Love equals loss. In every relationship, there is loss. You will lose everyone in your life eventually. Realizing that so personally opens my eyes to how much I take for granted. After complaining to dad that we had to go to grandma's house for Christmas AGAIN, he reminded me that we had to take advantage of the time we had with them - that they wouldn't be around forever. He was right. Even though love equals loss, I'm sooo thankful for what I've found - the memories and the love of those in them will stay with me for the rest of my life.
So, . . . . . . . . .my siblings and I are planning a trip to Louisiana - a trip to say, "Goodbye," and "I love you," one more time. I trip to give grandpa one last hug and to see him smile, happy to see us. Don't forget to say, "I love you," and don't forget to love those you have right now. You don't know how long you have them.
After talking to mom last night and realizing how serious things were after just one round of chemo (nearly killed him), I began to remember . . . . . remember the times he pushed us around in the wheelbarrow and then let us have a go at trying to get it around yard, the time he scared me by showing up Christmas morning dressed as Santa and me too young to enjoy people in costume. I remember underdogs on the tree swing in the back yard, Grandpa cringing as I looked at him with my eyes crossed, him taking me to the doctor because I was fool enough to try to reach the bar on the opposite side of the swing set with my feet as I pumped my swing with all my might and the chain broke - I sprained my fingers.
My grandma died a few years ago and I remember too . . . the times I dove into her homemade stuffing and cranberry sauce at Christmas, listening to her read the story of Sacajawea to me for bedtime during our several day stay with them, parents out of town. I remember the jack-in-the-box (metal box) and kitchen set in their wooden toy chest. I remember a stuffed cat that belonged to my aunt. I remember the shower my dad built on the first floor for grandma since she couldn't climb stairs any more after her stroke. I remember her asking dad who he was and who we were, forgetting the names of her family. I remember hearing about grandpa visiting her every day in the nursing home in Louisiana - even when she didn't recognize the strange man in her room. I remember hearing that she had died and I had said, "Goodbye," and "I love you," years before when she could still remember.
Love equals loss. In every relationship, there is loss. You will lose everyone in your life eventually. Realizing that so personally opens my eyes to how much I take for granted. After complaining to dad that we had to go to grandma's house for Christmas AGAIN, he reminded me that we had to take advantage of the time we had with them - that they wouldn't be around forever. He was right. Even though love equals loss, I'm sooo thankful for what I've found - the memories and the love of those in them will stay with me for the rest of my life.
So, . . . . . . . . .my siblings and I are planning a trip to Louisiana - a trip to say, "Goodbye," and "I love you," one more time. I trip to give grandpa one last hug and to see him smile, happy to see us. Don't forget to say, "I love you," and don't forget to love those you have right now. You don't know how long you have them.
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