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MEMORIES' PATH

Just as a hole is dug to plant a single rose so that it may experience prolonged life, in odd comparison, Earth was scooped out to mark the place of my grandmother's grave. There she was left to rest in her own peaceful world.

Years later, when I found the courage to visit her grave and stood over the cold marble headstone with her name engraved upon it, I felt such loss. The years melted away, revealing me again as that young adolescent girl who had just said goodbye to her best friend.

But, as I stood there in the misting rain, looking at the exposed clay, the dried flowers at the grave's head, and the rusty, old wrought iron fence, I realized that she was not a part of this picture. She was alive and well, not only in wait somewhere not yet experienced by me, but alive inside of me.

I began to pass through time, going back to the years she and I had spent together. I remembered all the moments we had shared and all of the things she had taught me. As long as I live, those memories will keep her alive.

Furthermore, as I teach my children and grandchildren all that I have learned, she again lives on in them. This is God's plan and my grandmother can be proud of her legacy.

When I was a small child, death was never a part of my life. My days were spent simply living out the joys of every bright day. Not until I suffered the loss of my grandparents did I begin to realize how precious life is to each of us and just how much we all take it for granted.

Once I heard that each time a person dies, at the same moment, a baby takes its first breath. In these days, as we know them, where an unborn life is measured by economics and personal desire, people have totally forgotten the value of our most precious gift. A life is to be molded, nurtured, and loved with a higher value than any other on Earth.

Living is, in my time, like a racehorse running through each day at a pace much too fast to enjoy the little pleasures of my grandmother's day. We are all in a hurry to succeed, seeing in success real happiness!

But, though I see many people with this so-called success, I see few smiling faces.

My grandmother always took time to enjoy her existence, valued life, and enjoyed the simple, God-given pleasures.

She spent summer evenings sitting on the front porch forming pictures in her mind from the clouds overhead.

We sat together many nights when I was a child, quietly searching the moonlit sky for a shooting star so that we could make a wish.

She loved the sunset and marveled at the frightening strength of a storm.

My grandmother's life evolved around God and her family. If we would slow down a little, we just might find out that we have passed happiness by and, in waiting a moment, we give it a chance to catch up with us.

Through my grandmother, I learned to love the old as well as the young.

Through her, I learned the value of life both when obtained and, in her death, when lost.

Now, as my grandmother lies in her newfound, peaceful world, she waits patiently to be rejoined with me someday.

In the meantime, as I write the pages of my own family's memories, she walks with me along the path of mine.

Learn more about this author, Eugenia S. Hunt.
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