We live for so long but maybe life is short with long spaces in between. For anniversaries, birthdays, and family reunions on my dad’s side of the family we always gather at the same Italian restaurant in Chicago. The woman who runs it gives us big hugs and shares in these moments of our lives. To her, I assume that every day is just a series of special occasions in the lives of the families that she knows from the neighborhood. These vivid snapshots are all that she sees of us. Not the mundane time in between that takes up much of our day to day.
The Beach
I recently asked friends what they would do with an extra week of vacation time and the most common response I got was some form of a week at the beach. I have travelled enough to know that the idea of a beach is really just a metaphor for a state of mind. Stresses and logistics are put on hold at the beach. Days are left open and flexible. An umbrella topped cocktail at noon is really just a commitment to slow down, smile, and try to be in the moment. If I think about it, many of my best memories are from these types of moments, where ever they took place. However, the vivid times in life are not all positive.
The Phone Call
I woke up to go skiing with some friends early on a Saturday morning and got the phone call. My mood did a 180 when I got the news January 2020. I knew that my grandmother had less than a year to live but when I booked my plane ticket to visit, I didn’t expect that I was booking travel to her funeral. I had hoped that the chemo would give her some time back. Only a few weeks previous, I had even had wishful thoughts of taking her to a cubs game if she made it until Spring. It felt like a stupid thought when I got the news. I had been told that it may happen sooner. I had debated cancelling this ski trip all together and going back this weekend instead of next. I felt guilty. However, even if I had done so, I still would have arrived a couple of hours too late. I try not to beat myself up over it.
I know this seems rambling but trust that it will all make sense in the end. So it goes with this article and we can hope in life as well. I am not a religious person. My grandma knew this about me. She on the other hand was literally raised by the church and spent her life working within it. The next weekend I found myself carrying her casket down the aisle and doing a reading at the church she helped build. I’m not going to go into detail on this very personal experience other than to say that the services had been planned by her before she died. The last song that was sung was actually a country tune called “I Hope You Dance.” If you’ve never heard it, it goes roughly like this:
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean takin' chances, but they're worth taking
Loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out, reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
The Restaurant
After we said our final goodbye, we all ended up back at our Italian restaurant. I thought of all the vivid snapshots of my life that involved this place separated by all the mundane in between. We had been there for my grandfather’s funeral, my aunt’s funeral, and now my grandma’s. However, who was left I asked to myself? Chicago has always been part of our family but now everyone who I had reason to visit is no longer there. I grew sad and nostalgic thinking that this may be our last time meeting up at this place greeted by a warm hug from the owner and knowing that the meal was going to taste even better because of the company. In this sadness, I kind of had a realization and again my mood did another 180.
The Lesson
We have had so many vivid times at this restaurant. A noble goal in life may be to try to have more of the vivid times and minimize the mundane in between. Vivid times aren’t always happy in a joyous way but can be happy in a meaningful way. My grandmother set this up and her last message was “I hope you dance.” The remaining people who had meant the most to her were all around me right now and I didn’t even really know some of them.
I got up from my table and I joined another table and then another. I talked with one of her best friends about how the last time I had seen her we were dancing around this same floor and she was wearing me out. I met the only pallbearer I didn’t know yet, and I spoke with the priest that she had been friends with for decades. I told him that my grandmother had mentioned him by first name and also had told stories about father X using his last name. It wasn’t until the funeral that I really put together that both were the same person. He shared with my dad and I that there was a time or two when he kind of “lost it.” My grandmother had pulled him back into his role. He seemed to indicate that she helped him to be a better spiritual leader.
Earlier I mentioned the beach as a metaphor. I had put my other stresses in life on hold and was trying to be in this moment of my grandmother’s funeral. It was certainly not joyous but it was one of the vivid times of my life and I didn’t want to miss it. She didn’t want me to miss it. It was a brunch but I ordered a cocktail and slowed down and decided to be flexible to those around me. I would have liked one last conversation with her that never happened. However, it might have been more for me than her anyhow. I take her message with me as I share it with you too.
