Today is significant for me. On this day, my Grandfather passed away at 86 years of age.
I wanted to pause and reflect on this for just a moment.. At 86 my Grandfather had lived about 3 of my lifetimes. He was married to my Grandmother for 63 years before she passed on last year. Together they would have many children and their children would also have children. Only then does my story even begin. Up until then, he had already loved, lost, laughed, cried, and lived multiple lifetimes of experiences. That is so utterly bewildering to me.
As I became a young adult, and as the physical distance between us grew, the further apart we became. But the many years of watching him get up from his chair, through the living room window, to answer the door with smile or the way the stubble from his weekly shave brushed against my cheek or the warmth of his hug and voice as I was pulled into his arms, is not lost on me. He was a simple man of few words, yet a strong one. He never complained about how little he had or how tired he was or how little he was recognized. He always just did the best he could and always, always with love.
We all go the same and eventually the torch will be passed from one generation to the next. And at some point we will all question our life's path and purpose. Imagine, looking 60 years into the future and wondering if the life you lived was a good one. If you really lived to your fullest potential. If you could go back to where you are now, what would you do differently? With this in mind, the older I get and the closer and longer I look in the mirror, the more I see his reflection. Our resemblance is hard to deny. And it's now, more than ever, that I question whether my life will be a story worth telling.
Only time will tell, but the torch is now mine to bear and the fire burns bright.
What about yours?
In memory of Manuel and Maria Marrujo.