Interesting that my blog posts slowed significantly once I returned to grad school. I suppose I write more than enough for my course in PTSD. Still, writing about my life, and the light of my life, feels so much more important. It's just so hard, sometimes, to find the time.
I met a sweet old lady in the grocery store yesterday. I had picked up a Hello Kitty stuffed animal, and she looked at it longingly, and shook her head. I smiled and said something about how cute it was, and how tempting. That was all it took. A twenty-five minute conversation ensued. I learned that Georgia is 87. She has 8 great-grandchildren, including a nine-year-old who has Georgia wrapped around her little finger. She married her high school sweetheart after graduating in 1944, and he served in World War II after being drafted. They had two, maybe three, children. Georgia's own parents died at relatively young ages. Georgia and her beloved Leroy lost their oldest daughter 12 years ago to cancer. She was 54. Within two years of her death, Leroy passed away, too. Georgia was tearful as she recalled watching her daughter fight her disease, and as she spoke of how much she still misses Leroy. She admitted that she sometimes feels depressed, and does not know why she is still here. Then she shared more about her 9-year-old great-granddaughter, who is actually her step great-granddaughter, but does not know the difference. The 9-year-old lives nearby, and stays with Georgia on occasion. Georgia said that her great-granddaughter holds Georgia's face in her hands and tells her she doesn't know what she would do without her. I said, "Well that's why you're here." Georgia has some health problems, including a pace maker and a replaced knee. She said she doesn't have much money, but keeps busy anyway. She was picking out Easter eggs, and said she tapes dollar bills to some of them as an extra surprise for the kids.
Georgia apologized for taking my time, and thanked me for giving it. I told her I had lots of time, and was grateful to have met her. She said that despite everything, she had had a blessed life. She said that all that really matters are the children and being kind. We parted ways so that she could get a Starbucks, and then had one more goodbye when she walked back from Starbucks, disappointed that they had closed at 6, and it was now 6:10. I went to pick out a Rotisserie chicken, only to discover that the store had run out, and I would have to go somewhere else to get our dinner.
I think this chance meeting was something more than that. It was a reminder that life will pass by. And who knows what my story will be, if I am lucky enough to get to 87 years old. And there will never be a happy ending, but there will be many beautiful moments. And also some that are incredibly painful. But the point is the process. It is about being kind, and about taking care of our kids. Georgia was right. If we are those two things, somehow I think we come through it all with grace. There are no guarantees, other than this moment.
So, I'm going to go now, and embrace my two-and-a-half-year-old, who is decked out from head to toe in princess and ballerina gear, and has been since 4:30 am. And that's okay. Because even that early, there are beautiful moments.
