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The 27th of last month was my grandmother's 100th birthday. She passed away a little over three years ago. She had been looking forward to living a whole century, and in some ways she has--through those of us who loved and were loved by here. I thought a lot about her this past week, and thought I'd share a few stray thoughts and stories.
My grandma grew up quite poor in Oklahoma. She had four older brothers, and her dad passed away before she knew him. She and my grandpa made a good life for themselves in southern California. They were very hard-working and generous people. They had three sons, my father being the youngest. When my dad was probably elementary school-aged, his oldest brother died somewhat suddenly from cancer. A consequence of this shock was that my grandma and my dad formed a very strong attachment that lasted their whole lives. It wasn't until both my dad and my grandma passed away that I realized how deep their bond was and what effect that had on our family overall (and my relationship with her in particular).
My grandma adored me. She thought the world of me, and having her believe so strongly in me made me resilient to the socio-economic conditions I grew up in. I always believed in and trusted myself, which is a profound gift to give any child. She taught me many things, like manners and etiquette, but also how to listen, and indirectly, how to meditate. I learned a lot about equanmity and compassion just observing how she treated others and tagging along for various charitable endeavors she was a part of.
My grandma was the type of person that would see a homeless person holding a sign asking for money and invite them to come have lunch with her. Some of these people were possibly scammers! But it didn't really matter to my grandma. So what if they are not "really" homeless or as destitute as they make themselves out to be--they, like everyone, benefit from genuine compassion. This was what she figured Jesus would do in her position.
My grandma was VERY religious. She was a very old-school Baptist. Politically, we had very different ideas about things (although, I was happy that she denounced Trump during his candidacy--she said he was disgusting and a phony). But in many ways my grandma was a very "good" christian in the sense that she dedicated herself and her life to living more "christ-like." For her, that was all there was to it, and she had a pretty good nose for smelling through evangelistic bullshit. I am not religious, although I spent a lot of time in church with my grandma when I was young (the indoctrination backfired I guess). But I appreciate the wisdom and compassion embodied in the way she lived her life. She was not a saint, but she was sincere.
During Thanksgiving, she would take us to volunteer at homeless shelters. We would cook, serve, and eat Thanksgiving dinner with the people living there. She would donate all this money (which she didn't have a lot of) to buy groceries for poor families during the holidays. She never got anything from this--no instagram bragging rights or whatever else. It was just the way she and her friends were, it's just what they did. They grew up during the depression, and she was part of the few who came to California from Oklahoma and actually made a decent living. She took none of it for granted, and gave gave gave every last bit that was not essential to her livelihood.
My grandma was so profoundly grateful, and this is something I regret not being able to talk about with her more. Before bed, every single night, she would pray, and by the time she died this whole routine would take about two hours. She would sit and close her eyes, and thank every single person she ever knew and would ask god to bless and look over them. Every single night, she would go back through and remember every face of all of her friends and family members, old acquaintances and associates--all of whom she outlived. She would pray for strangers on "prayer chains" on the various radio stations she listened to. She would thank god for everything she ate that day, everything she had, AND everything she didn't have. For all the years I lived with my grandma, she never once skipped this little routine. Even if she was sick and dying...well, what better to do when you're sick and dying than thank your creator for your life? This was the way she lived.
My grandma would pray for me. And I know this, because she would tell me ALL THE TIME. She probably told me so much because she wanted me to go to church! But she felt that it was important to tell me. Every time I'd get off the phone with her, it would always end with the same little spiel about how I meant so much to her and that she was praying for me. And having grown up with that, I definitely took it for granted. It's easy to just be like, yeah yeah yeah I love you too grandma, bye! But now that she is gone, the world feels different knowing that she isn't out there praying for me; that she isn't in her rocking chair somewhere sending out her compassionate vibes to everyone she ever knew. It makes me feel a little lost--it makes the world feel a little less like home.
Before my grandma died, she wrote me a letter. In it, she says to read it every few years to remember how much I was loved. And I do. And I'm reminded of what the world felt like when I was young and unconditionally loved by my grandmother. It makes me want to be a better person--a better dad for my kids especially. I'm lucky to have had someone love me so much, and I want that for my children. My kids never got to meet my grandma, unfortunately. But when I read my grandma's note and become inspired by the way her love made me feel, I realize how my kids can "know" her in spirit through me and the way I live my life. It's not easy to sustain that inspired feeling of lucid gratitude; it takes a lot of effort.
But what the hell am I doing if I can't take the time to be grateful for the people in my life? What else in the ordinary "real world" could be so urgent that it justifies taking everything else for granted?
A good measure of one's pace of life, I think, is how much it prioritizes gratitude over gain. It's enough that we are here now, and being able to cease taking that basic fact for granted is a source of profound peace and equanimity. It's not easy to do. But I still have all my life ahead of me.
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