Last week my grandmother suddenly passed away. I have known her all my life, and for most all of it, she and I were a chosen, harmonious pair. We were very close, very like-minded and like-spirited. Being her first granddaughter, she fully spoiled me within her power. We traveled parts of the world together where she introduced me to so many of life’s finer things. We shared secrets and stories and traumas. If ever there was a time that I found myself looking back on my life to hear someone’s applause, I knew I could find her front and center. She called out the best in me, stretched my thinking and encouraged me to go after everything that lit me up inside. In all ages and seasons of my life, I knew I had her support and foresight, and when you couple those things together, it is magnificently safe to an adolescent. “The world is your oyster, punkie,” she would say. “I’m impressed with you,” she would write. Her words wrapped me up in approval and clothed me in comforting confidence that I will deeply miss for the rest of my days. I believed in myself largely in part because she believed in me. I was the luckiest to have her.
Life is so brief. Having lost three grandparents in the last year, I have, if nothing else, taken complete stock of the time I might possibly have left and created a firm sense of accountability of all that I want our kids to know, believe, feel, and experience. Heaven feels much closer to me now and I’m looking forward to getting there, but I’m not rushing or wasting away the time that I have with those I love here. I am, however, remembering who my grandfathers were, what they taught me, how they loved me. I am recalling and committing to memory all that my Nanna was, how her life experiences shaped me, the ways in which she loved me and made me feel loved. As I reminisce and recollect my time with each of them, I hold so many beautiful memories and lessons and tokens of wisdom and willpower and work ethic. I carry these things in my heart and mind like the priceless treasures they are.
Earlier this week, over dinner at our table with our kids, my husband and I were talking to the “bigs” about our individual college experiences. Our oldest son, Austin, is four years away from embarking on his own college journey and as we spoke of our different experiences, I watched his body posture lean forward while his brain began to take note. The questions began rolling in about possible career choices that he might want to pursue. We offered our advice in return, and then almost immediately, our oldest daughter (who is starting the 7th grade) asked, “What if you don’t know what you want to be yet?” Of course, we reminded her that she was not expected to know that at her age and reassured her that she had plenty of time to figure it out.
As I laid my head on the pillow that night, I thought about her question again. It takes a while to figure out what you want to be, doesn’t it? What I’m also learning is that it takes a while to figure out who you want to be, too. And when I think about who I want to be, I think so much of my grandparents and their individual inherent attributes. Being led and loved by them taught me so much about who I want to be. Every living day I get with my kids, what I want to be to them is who my grandparents were to me.
-by Destini McPherson
