Gramps

Funny what spending time with your grandpa can do for your soul ...

I quite often think of my deceased grandfather, affectionately known as "Gramps," and what he might think about me today, and what our relationship would be like. He went to a better place many years ago, when I was much younger. But, during the short time I had him he always soothed me and made me feel wanted and loved. He knew how much I needed him.

I miss him so much.

After all these years, though, I can still smell him. I can feel his seemingly permanent five o’clock shadow whiskers on my face. I see those whiskers contrasting against the white sink when I shave each morning. I can sense his arms around me, comforting me with his kindness.

I once asked my grandmother what she missed most about him after he died, and she simply replied, "His kindness." So powerful. So true. Nearly brought me to my knees when she said that.

I remember when Gramps died, and my Mom woke me up on a Saturday morning to tell me. I remember it like it was yesterday. I cried for days. I was terribly sad, and only as I have gotten older have I realized just how much I miss and need him, then and now.

Writing this, thinking about him, I wish I could run into that place far away from here to see him so he could hold me close again. To smell him. To feel those whiskers. To feel his embrace, his comfort and kindness. I know that is impossible, so I conjure up the memories. I find great solace in knowing that wonderful man saved me ... back then, and still today with the sense I will always have of his touch.

When I see my father-in-law embrace my sons and love them, I feel Gramps nearby. That permanent emotional bond surfaces. I am so grateful for those moments. He's here. I know it. I see it. I feel it.

Funny what thinking about your grandpa can do for your soul ...

Ocean Healing

I penned this several years ago during a moment of stress, when I was thinking about the ocean and the peace it brings me. Needed to revisit it just now ...

Sweltering! A million degrees. Fiery enough to force sweat from my exposed pores while I relax, totally unaware of any existence, baking in the sun.

I enjoy the steam, though, as I watch the miniature beads of clear, sticky sweat drip from my arms, shoulders, and stomach. I find strange pleasure in watching the sweat glide across my skin, through me. They drop one by one silently in front of me, to the side, everywhere. Slow motion into the white powdery sand, where they evaporate instantly, not making a sound. I watch every one of them.

Perhaps there was something, but the waves breaking into the sand near my feet overtake all other audible sensations. I occasionally stand and stride slowly into the welcoming warm blue water to refresh. My body literally becomes one with the salty sea, and I am lost in myself and the moment as I drift effortlessly under the water in the absolute silence.

I am invisible to everything and everyone but my soul, which rejoices in this calm. My essence begs me to stay here, and I surrender hopelessly.

Like the beads of sweat before me, I evaporate into this safe place.

Listening to myself ...

I recently read a friend’s blog http://randomdunbar.blogspot.com/, and it inspired me to jot down some of my own thoughts on a regular basis.

I'm taking on this task mostly to simply listen to myself and to clear the daily cobwebs. When I write and then read my thoughts, it often helps me to better understand exactly what’s going on inside the brain that never sleeps. Perhaps, too, someone just might find a bit of inspiration in my reflections. Another might see himself or herself in me and realize that he or she is not as alone as once thought.

My friend spoke in his blog of how he has evolved as a person over the years, and how the man he once was is now but a memory. I find this topic to be one of the most interesting aspects of life—how we change and evolve into new beings over time. 

I always thought I was changing as I aged. But, those thoughts were passing ones. About four years ago, however, I experienced something dramatic that has changed me forever. I swallowed a good dose of pain and it took me to my fearful core. Which, quite ironically, is precisely where I now know I needed to be--at that core.

There, so deep inside, was a person I ran from for too many years. He made his way to the forefront and said, "Here I am. Deal with me!" Not an easy task. But, I managed to look directly into that boy's blue eyes and figure him out, if only somewhat. 

I saw a fearful young child trying to overcome a distant past framed by turmoil. I saw a terribly confused teen who felt betrayed by the world that wouldn't help him find his way. I saw a rebellious young man who was too rambunctious for all the wrong reasons. I saw all of those people, felt them all profoundly.

I can't fully explain what happened after that, but there was a rapid and distinct movement, a "change"--imagine that. Acceptance. That once fearful core had so suddenly evolved into one of peace. It now embraced me, held me tight, soothed me, and gently said, "It's OK. Go do something good." Literally amazing. Such overwhelming relief, spiritual to say the least.

Today, as a result, I am the greatest "me" I have ever been. Oh how I know I have changed. Not perfect by any means, but more compassionate, caring, unselfish and humble than ever. It feels good. It feels rewarding. 

The excitement of this evolution is tangible. But, I can't stay in and rely on this moment to carry me on. It, too, will pass. The difference for me today is I am not afraid of what awaits in the future--of the person I will become because of my past.