Last Saturday my dad planned to go fishing. He figured out all the details: riding the city bus to meet two of his good friends up at Leaburg Dam; packing into his power wheelchair sandwiches, telescoping fishing pole, and tackle; how he would get home later. But a cool wind blew early on that spring morning, chilling him as he powered his "chariot" to the bus stop. He knew this would only feel worse the longer he journeyed. At 86, you sometimes--well, often--have to revise plans. He came back home and called me with the news.
I had been happy for him to get this chance, but hearing the change I was relieved. My dreams Friday night included him making his effort with varying outcomes. It worried me.
Dad's fishing friends are younger than he; I think the older one is only 84. They became acquainted with Dad in college. In photos tugged from my parents' file boxes these men grin, their dear wives next to them sporting the permanent wave hairdo and mandatory skirts and gloves of their era. Now Dad's friends are widowers. My parents both deal with health issues and mild confusion, but they still, so far, deal with these things together.
Today as I write this, I mark eight years since entering into my days as Grandmom. This morning we were together with Edmund and his family at church. On the Julian calendar this year, June 10th is the Feast of Ascension, 40 days after Pascha. All Orthodox Christians observe the leave-taking of Jesus Christ from his apostles on earth into heaven. When he ascended Jesus remained human, I've come to believe, just as when, at birth--having entered into the humanity of his mother on earth from heaven--he remained God. I equate this with a child gaining attributes from both of his parents. In Edmund's case, he is both Hershiser and Titus. His complexity is an interweaving that is never a globulous mass, never a confusion, always unique. He is a person bearing the marks of where he came from.
Edmund is also a total kid--all arms and legs and loud singing in the restroom during our church service. Afterward he reacted with joyful amazement to Tim's and my card. Eight dollars!! What a gift to be there for his first recognition that cards can bear more than signatures.
It looks like days are coming when togetherness can look different, and better, from our past months' revisions. Life ever flows unstagnated. This amazes us, old and young. This has taken on complex new meanings for me in church, and I wish to carry these meanings forward.
5 comments:
I LOVED getting birthday cards with dollar bills in them from my relatives--to this day sometimes I'll send my sister some cash in her birthday card, just to recreate that excitement of seeing a flash of that distinctive green.
Eight years old!
Happy birthday to Edmund---and congrats to his lucky grandmother, you!
Dear Deanna, so many months have passed since I've visited your blog postings and had my mind captured by the wisdom of your thoughts and words. I'm glad that we are both posting again. Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm moving back into postings every couple of weeks. Health issues and a simple need to retreat into the moment led to my not posting for some time.
Now I'm trying to enter again into the writing that has always been my passion. However, two roads may be diverging in my life. We'll see.
As to putting dollar bills into your grandson's birthday card, I do that, too, for the four children who call me "Grandma Dee" even th ought we are not blood-related. We are heart-tied.
Hope all is well. And so glad to learn that your mom and dad still enjoy one another's company and that your dad has friends that go so long back.
One of these days, I hope you will write about and explain icons. I see so many in the photographs you show here. Peace.
Hey, Fresca -- So cool that you go back in time with your sis by giving her cash. What fun! I really can hardly believe Edmund is eight already.
Dear Dee, thanks for stopping! I want to get over to your blog; I skimmed your latest post when I saw there was a new one, and I will go back to read more slowly and comment. It sounds like you're taking a day at a time, which, cliched as it is, often happens to be the only way most of us can operate! Thanks also for asking about icons. I'm really glad you would like to know something, and I would like to write something about them when I get a breather. My sis-in-law moves into our home with us in about ten days, so we're in motion most minutes, but I'm trying to take the minutes one at a time, too. Take care.
Dear Deanna, I look forward to reading any posting you do on icons--whenever that happens. No rush. Let's both just "go with the flow" and "live in the moment." Peace.
Ohhh, I love this project, it looks promising. More, give us more!!
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