The Wheels of Motion: Life, Death and Time

I feel an appreciation for time this week. I feel an appreciation for the way time continues, and life continues, regardless of what else is going on. There's something so reassuring about the way that time doesn't force us longer into spaces we don't want to be and seems to pull us forward into new experiences whether we are ready or not.

This week someone wonderful took their last breath, my Grandma. She had been living in a state of dementia for many years, with the threat of the end appearing all too often, and yet when the end suddenly arrived, it happened quicker than I expected.

Being present in someone's final moments is all of the emotions in the book, all of the highs and lows, anything and everything you can cram into that space of time with both the pressure and the sweet release of time itself.

I wanted to plan a super thoughtful blog that would weave all of my thoughts in a beautiful tribute to all who have lost loved ones but ... that's not how it goes when you lose someone you love. It's messy, it's emotional and it has no clear path forward. So here are a few random thoughts:

Death makes me think of the ways we hold tight to things that don't matter. Something happens when death or threat of death is on the table, something shifts in the way we treat ourselves and others, the ways we communicate, make plans and even, eat and sleep. The whole system gets disrupted.

Death also has a funny way of making you feel like every moment needs to matter. Every moment needs "be something" to calm the fear of what comes next. Certain words need to be exchanged, emotions need to be expressed and all the "right" things need to be done. Life is on hold and there is a need to prove that it is worth it.

We put so much expectation on ourselves to figure out what to do. And finally, in those quiet moments, we get to just "be" with our people realizing that nothing needs to be said and that just existing in a space together is more powerful than anything we can do or say.

People are so wonderful. There will never be enough words to express the feeling of watching her mouth "I love you ..." to me one final time. It wasn't the words, it was the almost 40 years of knowing what those words meant and feeling all of those experiences compounded into a moment. People are so wonderfully bigger than our words can explain.

Time keeps going. I love that time keeps going. I don't think we'd survive these moments if it didn't.

Below is the letter I wrote this week to my Grandma. Only her subconscious was able to hear it, but it's okay, I know she heard me. She was my Grandma and just being in her presence was enough to know she loved me.

Grandma,

I love you. You are one of the most curious characters I know. From Low German catchphrases, to competitive skipbo games, to the oldest British sitcoms on TV, you have been the most predictable, yet unexpected Grandma I know.

Your stories are legendary, how many fish did you catch that summer? And no grandkid will forget the dinner where the town "Intercourse" was discovered and our straight-laced, conservative Grandma burst out, "been there, done that."

The candy jar was always full, there was never-ending cookies and keilke, you played games with us as often as possible, and created more hand-sewn items than we could shrink in the wash.

Thank you for the way you loved us. There is no doubt in my mind that each tight squeeze communicated how much you cared.

Love you always.

Love Tam