I've had writers block for a month now. I'm sure other writers have experienced that awkward and frustrating time when they have plenty in their writer's queue but can't quite get into the groove. I've been trying to work on my project, prepare a lecture for 700 youth and continue my beloved blog.
But as I've tried to work on these, I've felt distracted and fractured. I couldn't figure it out. Then, while running one day, clarity filled my mind.
My grandfather died a month ago.
I've realized I haven't honored that need to mourn the loss of that great man, to allow myself to grieve in the best way I know how and that is to write. How could I possibly expect to let myself continue on with my writing without expressing my heart filled love for him and ache for the people who will miss him the very most?
It was the clear, beautiful morning after we arrived in Utah. I was running on my favorite route. To the east, the majesty of the Timpanogos Mountains and to the west, a very full Utah Lake. The crisp, high-mountain air was a refreshing change to the smell of wildfires that surrounded our home as we left for the airport. I felt so at ease...and like I was 'home'.
My phone rang. On the other end was my brother, telling me that my grandfather was very ill; So ill, in fact, that my parents were preparing to fly from their home in Germany to come to Utah, asap.
My heart sank. We all knew he was sick. It's weird how the knowledge that something like this is coming often changes nothing...is there really a way to sufficiently prepare?
During my race, I thought about him a lot. I thought about my grandma, my aunts, uncles and father. I desperately wondered how they were doing. I wanted to be with my daddy. I just wanted him to know how much I love him. I worried about how he was feeling, preparing for what was about to happen.
After a day and half of racing, I was running down a mountain in the last leg of my race. The sun was just peaking up over the mountains and I was running all alone. I wasn't passing anyone and no one was running past me. Yet, suddenly, I was flooded by the strongest impression that I wasn't alone. It was so tangible, I could feel it. In moment, I clearly understood that it was my grandpa. He was with me for just a minute, long enough for me to know he was there and most importantly, that he loved me. It was so strong and so sweet that it made me want to never, ever forget and to do everything possible to deserve such a love. Then I was alone again, left to ponder that moment that changed me.
On Father's Day I walked into my his room. His eyes were vacant and he was gaunt, his rattled breathing was labored. I was struck by a peaceful calm that enveloped the room...nothing like I would have expected, considering how little I've experienced death. So often, in our society we hear of death on the news, in the paper, in movies. Most of the time, it's loud, confusing and frightening. This was so different. Ruby, her little 18 month old self, even seemed to know how sacred this room was. As she sat there with me, she folded her arms and whispered as she talked.
The next day, as I gathered my things to pick my parents up from the airport, my sweet aunt called me. Grandfather had passed away. Again, nothing quite prepares a person for that moment.
A while later, as I searched for the familiar faces of my mom and dad in the crowd of the airport, I finally saw him. Dad, waiting by the curb with his comforting smile. It faded a moment, when I told him his father had passed away. I will never forget the look on my daddy's face.
That night was surreal to me. I brought my parents to my father's childhood home. They were there to say goodbye to my grandfather. His body hadn't been removed yet and the brothers and sisters gathered with my beautiful grandmother to offer comfort to each other.
For a time, we sat and talked and laughed about the memories and things he taught us. Then, it came time for the funeral home to take my grandfather's body. I've always really liked my aunts and uncles. They've always meant a lot to me. But that night, they changed in my eyes. Even in my admiration of who they are, I've underestimated their characters. To me, they are heroes.
That night, as the men from the funeral home carried my grandpa's body down the stairs, my Uncle Matt helped carry him. There's something so profoundly beautiful about that memory that will stay in my mind forever.
As my beloved grandmother wept, she was surrounded by my mom and my aunts so she wouldn't cry alone.
The siblings gathered around her earlier that night, praying with her and blessing her with comfort.
My fearlessly loyal aunt sat quietly with my grandpa and so tenderly stroked his head and held his hand.
As the funeral proceeded, I learned remarkable things about my grandfather and who he was. I had no idea of all he did for his family, for his country and for his God. I never realized how curly is hair was and how dashing he looked in his suit.
During all of this, I suddenly remembered things I hadn't thought of for years, like how he sat down and sobbed in the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania Airport waiting to go home to Utah after his visit. I realized, even as a small child, that he loved us so much that day.
I remember how he'd pay me a nickel for every squished apricot that was on the ground, under the tree; how much he loved my husband and when he heard we were on a poor, starving college student budget, insisted on paying him for doing jobs around the house when we visited.
The afternoon before we boarded a plane for out trip home, I did something I hadn't done in years. I found a spot, in the lush green of that secret garden backyard, and laid there, looking up at the beautiful blue Utah sky. I thought about everything that blessed man has given me...
He gave me a sense of what 'home base' is. It's where we gather for Christmas. It's the safe place in the sea of my first scary year of college.
He taught me industry and finding joy in service.
He gave me KK and the rest of the greatest aunts and uncles ever.
He blessed me with an aunt, only 8 months older than myself to idolize who was an automatic friend and playmate...nice for a little girl with 4 brothers.
He gave me the two greatest grandmothers in the whole wide world.
He gave me my strong, pioneer constitution.
He gave me my Daddy, who has given me so much of who I am and who I have the potential to become. For that, I have an eternity of gratitude.
But as I've tried to work on these, I've felt distracted and fractured. I couldn't figure it out. Then, while running one day, clarity filled my mind.
My grandfather died a month ago.
I've realized I haven't honored that need to mourn the loss of that great man, to allow myself to grieve in the best way I know how and that is to write. How could I possibly expect to let myself continue on with my writing without expressing my heart filled love for him and ache for the people who will miss him the very most?
It was the clear, beautiful morning after we arrived in Utah. I was running on my favorite route. To the east, the majesty of the Timpanogos Mountains and to the west, a very full Utah Lake. The crisp, high-mountain air was a refreshing change to the smell of wildfires that surrounded our home as we left for the airport. I felt so at ease...and like I was 'home'.
My phone rang. On the other end was my brother, telling me that my grandfather was very ill; So ill, in fact, that my parents were preparing to fly from their home in Germany to come to Utah, asap.
My heart sank. We all knew he was sick. It's weird how the knowledge that something like this is coming often changes nothing...is there really a way to sufficiently prepare?
During my race, I thought about him a lot. I thought about my grandma, my aunts, uncles and father. I desperately wondered how they were doing. I wanted to be with my daddy. I just wanted him to know how much I love him. I worried about how he was feeling, preparing for what was about to happen.
After a day and half of racing, I was running down a mountain in the last leg of my race. The sun was just peaking up over the mountains and I was running all alone. I wasn't passing anyone and no one was running past me. Yet, suddenly, I was flooded by the strongest impression that I wasn't alone. It was so tangible, I could feel it. In moment, I clearly understood that it was my grandpa. He was with me for just a minute, long enough for me to know he was there and most importantly, that he loved me. It was so strong and so sweet that it made me want to never, ever forget and to do everything possible to deserve such a love. Then I was alone again, left to ponder that moment that changed me.
On Father's Day I walked into my his room. His eyes were vacant and he was gaunt, his rattled breathing was labored. I was struck by a peaceful calm that enveloped the room...nothing like I would have expected, considering how little I've experienced death. So often, in our society we hear of death on the news, in the paper, in movies. Most of the time, it's loud, confusing and frightening. This was so different. Ruby, her little 18 month old self, even seemed to know how sacred this room was. As she sat there with me, she folded her arms and whispered as she talked.
The next day, as I gathered my things to pick my parents up from the airport, my sweet aunt called me. Grandfather had passed away. Again, nothing quite prepares a person for that moment.
A while later, as I searched for the familiar faces of my mom and dad in the crowd of the airport, I finally saw him. Dad, waiting by the curb with his comforting smile. It faded a moment, when I told him his father had passed away. I will never forget the look on my daddy's face.
That night was surreal to me. I brought my parents to my father's childhood home. They were there to say goodbye to my grandfather. His body hadn't been removed yet and the brothers and sisters gathered with my beautiful grandmother to offer comfort to each other.
For a time, we sat and talked and laughed about the memories and things he taught us. Then, it came time for the funeral home to take my grandfather's body. I've always really liked my aunts and uncles. They've always meant a lot to me. But that night, they changed in my eyes. Even in my admiration of who they are, I've underestimated their characters. To me, they are heroes.
That night, as the men from the funeral home carried my grandpa's body down the stairs, my Uncle Matt helped carry him. There's something so profoundly beautiful about that memory that will stay in my mind forever.
As my beloved grandmother wept, she was surrounded by my mom and my aunts so she wouldn't cry alone.
The siblings gathered around her earlier that night, praying with her and blessing her with comfort.
My fearlessly loyal aunt sat quietly with my grandpa and so tenderly stroked his head and held his hand.
As the funeral proceeded, I learned remarkable things about my grandfather and who he was. I had no idea of all he did for his family, for his country and for his God. I never realized how curly is hair was and how dashing he looked in his suit.
During all of this, I suddenly remembered things I hadn't thought of for years, like how he sat down and sobbed in the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania Airport waiting to go home to Utah after his visit. I realized, even as a small child, that he loved us so much that day.
I remember how he'd pay me a nickel for every squished apricot that was on the ground, under the tree; how much he loved my husband and when he heard we were on a poor, starving college student budget, insisted on paying him for doing jobs around the house when we visited.
The afternoon before we boarded a plane for out trip home, I did something I hadn't done in years. I found a spot, in the lush green of that secret garden backyard, and laid there, looking up at the beautiful blue Utah sky. I thought about everything that blessed man has given me...
He gave me a sense of what 'home base' is. It's where we gather for Christmas. It's the safe place in the sea of my first scary year of college.
He taught me industry and finding joy in service.
He gave me KK and the rest of the greatest aunts and uncles ever.
He blessed me with an aunt, only 8 months older than myself to idolize who was an automatic friend and playmate...nice for a little girl with 4 brothers.
He gave me the two greatest grandmothers in the whole wide world.
He gave me my strong, pioneer constitution.
He gave me my Daddy, who has given me so much of who I am and who I have the potential to become. For that, I have an eternity of gratitude.
6 comments:
What an absolutely beautiful tribute to your Grandpa! It helps to write it all down doesn't it! I bet you feel a little better after doing that! He will always be with you, Trish! I love you!
Oh, I am sorry for your loss. You are a beautiful writer. I was in tears near the end and I don't even know your dad or your grandfather. Thanks for sharing.
What beautiful thoughts. I'm sorry that you had to lose someone so amazing in your life, Trishelle. I am so grateful that we are lucky enough that, while we may be sad for ourselves when our loved ones are gone, we never have to despair for one second because WE KNOW! Please let me know if you need someone to talk to!
That was so touching to read. What a beautiful experience to feel the presence of your grandfather. I'm glad you were there and able to comfort your dad and others this passing affected. God bless you and all of your family. Thank you for sharing this experience.
That was beautifully written Trishelle. You are a very blessed woman to have such a wonderful family. Thank you for sharing such tender and personal thoughts and experiences.
It is totally safe to say your supposed wring block is over !
Bravo !!!
Your words touch me Trishelle. I know your Grandpa is looking down on you with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes at the remarkable person you are. Thank you for sharing.
Post a Comment