Hosted by Cecily and Mama Geek
I sat down one morning in the bathroom on the small bench in front of my mirrored vanity. The vanity I inherited from my grandfather when he died in 2003. It was given to me by my father, along with the four poster bed, tall dresser and night stand that were all part of the same set. The furniture that had inhabited my dear grandfather's bedroom for as far back as I can remember.
As I sat there, applying make-up and blow drying my hair - I heard Matt Lauer's voice on the TV in my bedroom. He was interviewing Franklin Graham (Billy Graham's son) via telephone. I did not catch the entire conversation, but I did hear the part where Mr. Graham said, "My father tells how he has never had a fear of death - how he has been preparing his entire life for dieing and going on to live eternity with the Lord. But ... he does say that he had never truly prepared himself for aging and it has been difficult," (something along those lines).
My grandfather (my father's father), lived to the age of 102. In those final months of his life, I remember talking to my mother and saying, "What must it feel like to be at the very end of your life - and KNOW it? Know that you have - in his case - only months or weeks or hours - or minutes - left to live?"
My grandfather was one of those people that enjoyed life and lived his whole life in motion. When I was in his presence, I was acutely aware of his motions and actions and words. I was aware of how invested he was in his life through his mood, his tones and his gestures. He was a man of few complaints - while I imagine he had a few - he never wasted time in dwelling on the obstacles or barriers or problems. He moved through and around and over and beyond the problems in his life with the exact same grace and enthusiasm as he navigated the joyful and positive events.
Sometimes ... when I sit at my grandfather's vanity - the one now painted with a bright coat of white paint - I sometimes see myself in the mirror and imagine that I am a proud reflection of him. And then other times ... I see in the mirror a person that lives a life that does not reflect him at all, but ... a person who often allows her life to overwhelm her and has a life that she allows to dictate or determine its own direction.
My grandfather was a man that lived his life and not a man that allowed his life ... to dictate to him how to live. It was evident that he knew the difference and also evident that he chose the difference.
When I was a little girl, I spent many a summer at my grandfather's farm in West Virginia. In my mind I still go there to sit on the swing on the front porch of the old farm house. I listen to hear my grandfather's voice. I watch to see where he is - up in the pasture, down in the feed barn ... high on the hill. I wander the paths and fields and feel the breeze as it sweeps over the mountains and finds its way to me in the valley below the barn. I hear the trickling of the mountain streams and I play with the kittens. I climb the ladder to the hay loft in the barn and make my way through the bails of hay. I stand by the window.
This was my grandfather's world - this farm - this place. I loved it for its beauty and its worth, but most of all I loved it ... because it represented to me the life that he lived. It was the place that is filled with memories of seeing a man that was not afraid to callus his hands from years of hard work or ... take time out to enjoy the simple pleasure of searching out and picking blackberries with his grandchildren.
When I need reminded - to remember to try to live my life and stop letting my life lead me - I sometimes go to the mountains of West Virginia and I climb the ladder to that hay loft. I walk over to the window and I lean way out.
It is here ... through this window that I know ... I will remember to ... see the world.
I feel lucky to have this place and these fond memories to lean on. I also feel fortunate to own this old vanity that was my grandfathers, as it is a constant reminder of a man that I loved very much.
Every morning I sit in front of these old mirrors - it is how I start nearly every single day of my life. If I could see my grandfather's image in the mirror and if he could whisper words of guidance and wisdom, I know what he would say to me. He would say ... "Now, go on, Kellan. Go on with your day. And don't forget to live ... every single moment of your life."
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