"Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house, like a lot of houses. A yard like a lot of other yards. On a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back...with wonder."
[Kevin, from the Wonder Years]
I spent a large portion of yesterday (the literal yesterday, as in 24 hours ago) interviewing my grandma for a documentary I'm putting together to wrap up my senior year of college.
A few days ago, my family found out that a good friend of ours from my mom's childhood days is in the hospital. He's about the same age as my grandma, and although going to the hospital is not necessarily synonymous with death, the mere fact of his age mixed with the visit brought into close view the reality of earthly mortality. My grandma is not going to be here forever.
She won't always be here to eat oatmeal with me in the morning as we sip coffee and talk about life. She won't always be a phone call away, telling me as she hangs up, "I'll pray for you, and you pray for me." There won't be a chance to help her down the steps or to hear her witty replies to comments that my brother makes. She's my biggest fan when it comes to my piano playing attempts--and those exclamations of, "That was so beautiful!" won't always be uttered. She really won't be here forever. And neither will I.
Something about that feels final. At least final in the sense that for a little while, we won't be together.
And all of this led me to a compelling feeling that yelled, "I need to capture her story." She has one, just like I have one. Just one. That's it. And where she's come from, where she is right now, where she's headed--that all matters to me. It matters to my story. It's part of my story. I don't want to miss this chance to learn from her--because at this point in my life, with all the transitioning that's showing me how little I know--I need the treasure of her wisdom and experiences.
So i listened. I listened with ears alert and heart awake so as not to miss a single detail (which, if anyone really knows me, they know this can sometimes be a battle for me to do). I had three separate cameras running, for fear of missing something. I asked so many questions...
"Nanny, where did you grow up?"--New York City
"What cool things did you do?"--I rode my bike around the city and watched as they built the empire state building (WHAT?!? Cause you know, I get to do things like that all the time.)
"How did you get through the Great Depression?"--my mom was a strong woman and my older siblings worked hard. They worked so hard that I was able to go to college.
"What do you think is the most important thing in life?"--DON'T be materialistic (this she said about ten times, and that is not an exaggeration). Be content with what you have. That's what's important.
"What was one of your great accomplishments?" I won an award for writing an essay called Catholicism and Patriotism as Antidotes for Communism (ohh, that's all huh? haha. See what I have to live up to?)
There was so much more. I need to go back and watch the video clips to remember everything.
However, I am amazed at the details with which she recounted the events of her life. She knew the whole story of how her mother came over to Ellis Island from Ireland, and then how her father and mother met. (It's a beautiful love story. One of the best I've ever heard--and it takes quite a bit to impress me in that area.) She remembered when her father died when she was eight. She remembered how her mother would respond to people when they asked if she would marry again... "How could I? I had the best." She knew the architectural details of the house where she lived, the exact floor of their small apartment, the exact street where it was located, the directions from her house to her favorite places. She told me about how men would sleep in cardboard boxes because they had no place to go, and how her mother taught her to take notice of them--to not pass by as if they were not important.
I don't know how much wonder she has looking back on her life, but I sure can do that for her...
and I hope my childhood memories stick with me for the longhaul, just like her's are still very vivid in her memory.
How I wish I could, if just for a day, go back in time and experience with her some of the events that shaped her life. But since I can't, I'm growing even more thankful for the beautiful gift of imagination--that even if I can't go there physically, my mind can recreate the events and help me to grow from her story.
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"A man's age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories." ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wartime Writings 1939-1944
My grandma--she impresses me. In many ways she figured out how she wanted to live and stuck to it. What amazing character. She wanted to be honest in everything.
I hope that as I grow, that is the kind of character that develops in my life. Instead of giving into the pressures of society, I hope that I can be someone who remains constant in my desire of seeking after the things that matter most, whether I find myself surrounded by circumstances favorable or unfavorable. It's easy to cave in. But in the end, that's what strips you of the brilliance that comes from living fully alive in all of the desiring, hoping, heartaching and loving that accompanies the journey on this side of heaven.
I'm so thankful that I was able to spend those few hours listening. It's funny how just a few hours can have an impact that lasts for a whole lifetime.
Actually, a few seconds could accomplish that. She could have just said, "What's destroying your generation is that no one is content," and that may have been enough for me to never be the same.
seconds.
and a whole life is changed.
sure puts the power of a moment and of a story into perspective.
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Nanny,
Thank you for being brave enough to really live. ♥
Love,
Caitlin
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"Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigour. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life."
~Charles Dickens
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