Transitions

The afternoon sun glared down upon me as I drove down 8th East toward the post office. Mere moments up the road was the cemetary on the left, laden with flowers brought by loved ones for this Memorial Day week. I often gaze upon this cemetary as I pass and wonder what stories lie there. As I drove today I had a slight twinge of wishfulness that I were close enough to visit my mother. Her resting place is much different than the scene alongside me, but the feelings were familiar. The idea lasted but an instant before I realized that I visit with her daily anyway. The grave holds her body, but not her spirit, and I often feel her near me.

Waiting in line at the post office brought an acquaintance with a kind upper-middle-aged gentleman. One who saw that we also had a yellow pick-up slip and offered for us to accompany him to the window and have our items picked up together. The effortless kindness in his communication and demeanor was touching. Sincere and understated, quiet yet strong. I wonder what his story is.

Stopping by my grandmother's home in her absence to collect the mail and double check that the homefront was A-ok, I walked around and looked in a sense of nostalgia and longing. Gone are the days of normalcy, where her home is bustling with laughing children and social adults, reveling in the familial ties that bind people so completely different from one another in an eternal realm. I was afraid to touch anything, wanting it to stay exactly as is for her return. It's one change I do not enjoy. Aging has never seemed a sad thing, until now, and that emotion is born only of my selfishness.

The contrasting emotions of the day struck me clearly at that moment. From the morning's jubilation at the munchkins kindergarten graduation to the solemn pondering of the drive and the brief sadness walking the wide, softly sloping steps, I couldn't help but recognize my own hypocrisy. I love the passing of time in my own life, but not the lives of others. Watching my child grow and learn and see the world with new eyes and give kindness in response to hurt and giggle and laugh is something I can't get enough of. With each year that passes we are better friends, better acquainted, better understood and more unconditionally loved. But each year that passes brings more difficulty on the part of other loved ones; difficulty that is hard to witness.

Yesterday Aeryn and I watched home videos from 2000 and I found myself lamenting the loss of my waist-long hair and pre-childbirth figure. Today those things bring me humor. In the end, what will my story be? In that spirit I raise my proverbial glass and offer the following:

Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest for some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.
~Mary Jean Iron