1 week ago...

There are moments in life when the unexpected happens. Though it can be an exciting thing like winning the lotto or randomly running into a long lost friend, occasionally those surprising times are in fact quite sad. The latter option is what I experienced recently. Actually, it was exactly one week ago when I heard the news about my grandfather. A once strong tower of a man, had officially taken his last breath. With it, marked the beginning stages of his passing and my family's collective mourning. Thinking about the fragile line that exists between life or death is rather mind-boggling. In an instant, our word choice slips into the past tense. A man that is, becomes a was. The worst part, however, is the simple fact that he is gone.

On my journey home to be with the family and to relay my official goodbye, I found myself at one point curled up on a chair in a quiet corner of the airport, writing frantically. Memory after memory flooded my mind, as I so desperately wanted to record them all. When someone passes on, the legacy they leave, apart from their few belongings, exists in the form of memories. In the airport terminal, I had made it my mission to document all my grandfather's stories. There was something healing in that process, however. Though I was traveling alone in a time of grief, the writing really helped me prepare for the farewell and for the family mourning sessions. Some of the memories even made me smile, in spite of the sadness that permeated my body. My grandfather was truly a character.

Upon my arrival in Oregon, I found myself surrounded by my adoring family. We shared hugs, tears, stories, laughter, food, and photos. Together, we took a respectful pause to honor our special family member. Though it was difficult, the support we provided for each other, made the process more tolerable. Shared grief is a bit easier to bear. Once again I was struck by the realization that crying with others is oddly therapeutic. It is also a bonding agent, for the tears we shared in the viewing room, really brought us together. There is something so indescribably powerful about confronting the reality of death by actually seeing the person one more time. My last moment was essentially the first time that the situation really hit me and became real.

After just a couple days, it was time for me to return. Obviously, I was still sad, though I felt "better" about this latest development in my family. It had been important for me to be a part of my family's mourning as well. Those moments, brief and full, helped me acknowledge and celebrate the life of my Gramps. They also rekindled within our family, the knowledge that relationships are the things in life that matter the most. Though we will always miss our Grandpa Frank, we know that we can find comfort in each other.