Grampy Past and Present

My sister found a note in one of our mother's photo albums. There, on yellowed notebook paper in perfect six-year-old script is my daughter's love for her grandfather. Her wish for him to get better after his 'hardatack' (he didn't) and her countdown to Christmas (27 days). To hold her love from 1983 in my hand last night, to relive the child she was and the love she had for her grandfather allowed me an opportunity to see that love transcends the generations and remains alive.

Michelle's excitement whenever her grandfather arrived, her leaps into his lap, the shadow she became as she wound her way around his long legs, her insistence that he sit with her, that he was hers and the rest of us could fend for ourselves had faded for me. This note brought that back. What a lovely gift to receive, not just the memory but the ability to open my eyes and see history repeat itself with our grandchildren. To see the adoration in their eyes as they cling to their grandfather, to me.

When Michelle walks down the aisle of our church (in 29 days!), the same aisle I walked down, the same aisle my sister walked down and the same aisle my mother walked down, there will be a candle on the altar. In the flame of that candle will burn the memory of those we loved. No, not loved, love. Those we love who, even in their absence, remain with us.