94 Years of Wisdom
Last week, I flew to Massachusetts to visit my 94-year grandmother in the hospital.
Let me tell you about this amazing woman.
Barbara, Auntie B, or Gramma to us grandkids, was born in 1930 to first-generation Newfoundlanders.
(No wonder I love the music of Alan Doyle (and Great Big Sea), it’s in my DNA!)
Gramma was a preschool teacher for 22 years and has been an active member in her community for her entire life. She was a heck of a quilter and helped launch multiple quilting initiatives over the years. She volunteered at the Council on Aging. She often drove for Meals on Wheels too, “delivering meals to the old people” (as she called it), which she did well into her 80s!
During past visits to Massachusetts, I would swing by Gramma’s for an afternoon, habitually checking my phone, often distracted with some unimportant work thought that occupied my brain. I think having known her my entire life, I just had this thought “Gramma has always been here, and Gramma will always be here.”
Fortunately, I stumbled upon an ancient Japanese concept that helped me recognize and course correct this pattern. It allowed all of my recent visits with Gramma to be decidedly different.
Ichi-go Ichi-e 一期一会
There’s a concept dating back to Japanese tea ceremonies in the 1600s called ichi-go ichi-e:
This translates to: “one time, one meeting.”
It’s a reminder for us to treasure and embrace each unrepeatable moment in time. No matter how often we do something or see somebody, it is the only time that it will truly happen this way, in this moment.
This concept can remind us to be more present.
- Instead of checking our phones, we can focus on the person or task in front of us.
- Instead of worrying about tomorrow or zoning out, we can be here now.
- Instead of going through the motions, we can be a bit more deliberate with our behavior.
I’ve reflected a lot on Japanese Zen philosophy over the past few years (see my essay about Wabi-Sabi), and this concept of ichi-go ichi-e has stuck with me too.
Which brings me to my trips to visit Gramma this summer.
I stopped worrying about the future or ruminating on the past, put my phone down, and just sat with her.
I treated each visit as if it was the only time that I would get to have that interaction.
I asked her questions about her childhood. I learned that she spent a few summers living in a tent with no running water or electricity, while her father built their home with his own two hands. And how much she loved it.
She told me about her teenage years, including the time she snuck out of the house and got caught, and had to sit at the foot of her parents bed until the sun came up.
I learned more about my grandfather. She even shared photos of her wedding that I had never seen before:
She also found some photos of me and her from way back in the day!
This one was my favorite:
I returned to Nashville last month, unsure when (or if) I’d get to see her again.
It still felt different. I had connected with Gramma more deeply in a few visits than I probably had in the past 10 years combined.
Which brings me to this past week at the hospital.
Gramma’s Community
Last week, my brother and I drove up to visit Gramma in the hospital each day.
And each day, a revolving door of guests would show up to check on her:
Her nieces and nephews. My uncle and father. My sister and mother (who just had surgery!). Her grandkids. The son of her best friend. Her friend Anne. Friends from the Council of Aging. Fellow quilters. People from her church.
At one point, there were 10 of us visiting at the same time, and it turned into an absolute party.
I was in awe of this woman and how many lives she has impacted.
If there’s a clear sign of a life well lived, it’s being surrounded by people who love you. Gramma has been selfless for so much of her life, and I was amazed and inspired at how many people dropped everything to come and spend time with her, swapping stories and keeping her company.
Despite the circumstances, she still has a great sense of humor too:
The first time she opened her eyes and saw me, she smiled and said, “I remembered another story!” She then told me about the time she “borrowed” a car, even though she didn’t have a license yet, to drive through the streets of Boston to track down her boyfriend.
While talking on the phone with her 94 year old brother in law, she asked “how are ya, you old geezer?”
When the doctor asked “are you feeling better today?” she replied “better than WHAT!”
Spending time with Gramma and all of the people from different parts of her life felt like the best possible use of my time. I am in love with the community she has around her, and I am constantly moved to tears by the love that so many people have for her.
This point was driven further home by my Gramma’s hospital “neighbor”…
Live Deliberately
The hospital in which my Gramma is staying is right next to Walden Pond, the very pond made famous by Henry David Thoreau in his book Walden.
One day, after visiting Gramma, I took a quiet walk around its perimeter, watching the light of the setting sun dancing through the trees.
(The Japanese have a word for this too, it’s called “komorebi”.)
I then read the sign with Thoreau’s most famous reflection:
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
Thoreau retreated to solitude to discover what was most important to him.
Gramma went the other direction, prioritizing what’s most important to her: family, friends, and community.
Two different scenarios, the same end result:
Choosing to live deliberately.
I don’t have plans on moving into the woods and living simply, but I do think I’ve done my best to live more deliberately these past few years.
Specifically, re-prioritizing what’s most important to me too: friends, family, and community.
All We have to Decide…
A few years ago, Gramma presented my brother, sister, and I with three of her favorite handmade quilts.
“I was going to have these given to you grandkids after I passed away, but I want to give them to you now so that we can enjoy this moment together.”
She took the time to explain the meaning behind each quilt and why they were selected for each of us. I’m so thankful she did this, rather than waiting to hear about these beautiful quilts after she passed.
When I visited Gramma this summer, I discovered that she had printed my essay about my grandfather, her husband, who had passed away. I hoped I made Grampy proud, but I realized I never got to tell him just how much I learned from him before he died.
For that reason, I’m writing this essay now to make sure she knows just how much she taught me. I’m so proud of my Gramma and I’m appreciative for having the opportunity to learn from her for 40 years (and counting!).
(I got a text from my father yesterday letting me know that he read this draft to her in the hospital and she loved it. Mission accomplished!)
I certainly hope Gramma gets better and is able to get back home. After all, she told her friend Laurie “I’m not done yet!”
But I also know that this is not up to us to decide.
As Gandalf tells Frodo in The Fellowship of the Ring:
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
I hope my Gramma and Thoreau can inspire you to live more deliberately:
- If you’re willing to put your phone down and be present with the people in front of you, life can feel so much more rich.
- If you’re willing to prioritize what’s actually important instead of the stuff that tries to steal your attention, you’ll never go wrong with the choices you make.
- If you can find a way to focus on the important people in your life, they’ll still be a part of it when you’re 94.
And finally remember, no matter what you do today, this is the only time this moment will happen.
Act accordingly.
-Steve
PS: If you want a thought-provoking film about being present and Ichi-Go Ichi-E, I highly recommend Wim Wenders’s Perfect Days.
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