Last week I flew to Massachusetts to visit my 94 year old grandmother in the hospital.
Let me tell you about this amazing woman.
Barbara, Aunt B, or Grandma to us grandchildren, was born in 1930 to the first generation of Newfoundlanders.
(No wonder I love music Alan Doyle (and Great Great Sea), it’s in my DNA!)
Grandma was a teacher for 22 years and has been an active member of her community all her life. She was an accomplished quilter and helped start numerous quilting initiatives over the years. She volunteered at the Council on Aging. She often drove for Meals on Wheels, “delivering meals to the elderly” (as she called it), which she did even in her 80s!
During past visits to Massachusetts, I would stop by Grandma’s one afternoon, usually checking my phone, often distracted by some trivial business occupying my brain. I think I’ve known her all my life and I thought, “Grandma was always here and Grandma will always be here.”
Fortunately, I came across an ancient Japanese concept that helped me recognize and of course correct this pattern. This has made all my recent visits to Grandma’s distinctly different.
Ichi-go Ichi-e 一期一会
There is a concept that dates back to Japanese tea ceremonies in the 1600s called ichi-go ichi-e:
It translates to: “one time, one meeting.”
It is a reminder for us to appreciate and embrace each unique moment in time. No matter how often we do something or see someone, it is only the time when it will actually happen this way, in this moment.
This concept can remind us to be more present.
- Instead of checking our phone, we can focus on the person or task in front of us.
- Instead of worrying about tomorrow or isolation, we can be here now.
- Instead of struggling, we can be a little more thoughtful in our behavior.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Japanese Zen philosophy over the past few years (see my essay on Wabi-Saba), and this concept of ichi-go ichi-e stuck with me.
Which brings me to my trips to visit Grandma this summer.
I stopped worrying about the future or thinking about the past, I put the phone down and just sat with her.
I treated every visit like it was only time I would get for that interaction.
I asked her about her childhood. I learned that she spent several summers living in a tent without running water or electricity while her father built their home with his own hands. And how much she loved it.
She told me about her teenage years, including the time she sneaked out of the house and got caught and had to sit at the foot of her parents’ bed until the sun came up.
I learned more about my grandfather. She even shared photos of her wedding that I’ve never seen before:
She also found some photos of me and her from back in the day!
This was my favorite:
I returned to Nashville last month, unsure when (or if) I would see her again.
It still felt different. I connected with Grandma more deeply in a few visits than I probably have in the past 10 years combined.
Which brings me to last week in the hospital.
Grandma’s community
Last week, my brother and I drove to visit my grandmother in the hospital every day.
And every day, a revolving door of guests would appear to check on her:
Her nephews and nieces. My uncle and father. My sister and mother (who just had surgery!). Her grandchildren. Her best friend’s son. Her friend Anne. Friends from the Council on Aging. Fellow quilters. People from her church.
At one point there were 10 of us visiting at the same time and it turned into an absolute party.
I was in awe of this woman and how many lives she impacted.
If there’s one clear sign of a life well lived, it’s being surrounded by people who love you. Grandma was selfless for so much of her life, and I was surprised and inspired by how many people gave up everything to come and spend time with her, share stories and keep her company.
Despite the circumstances, he still has a great sense of humor:
When she first opened her eyes and saw me, she smiled and said, “I remembered another story!” Then she told me how she “borrowed” a car, even though she didn’t have a driver’s license yet, to drive around Boston and find her boyfriend.
While on the phone with her 94-year-old brother-in-law, she asked him “how are you, old man?”
When the doctor asked “are you feeling better today?” she replied “better than WHAT!”
Spending time with Grandma and all the people from different parts of her life seemed like the best possible use of time. I am in love with the community she has around her and I am constantly moved to tears by the love so many people have for her.
This point was further refined by a “neighbor” from my grandmother’s hospital…
Live thoughtfully
The hospital where my grandmother is located is right next to Walden Pond, the very lake that Henry David Thoreau made famous in his book Walden.
One day, after visiting Gramm, I took a quiet walk around it, watching the light of the setting sun dance through the trees.
(The Japanese have a word for this too, it’s called “komorebi”.)
Then I read the sign with Thoreau’s most famous reflection:
“I went into the forest because I wanted to live thoughtfully, to face only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what needed to be learned, and not, when I come to die, find that I had not lived.”
Thoreau retreated into solitude to discover what was most important to him.
Grandma went in a different direction, prioritizing what was most important to her: family, friends and community.
Two different scenarios, same end result:
Deciding to live thoughtfully.
I have no plans to move to the woods and live simply, but I think I’ve done my best to live more thoughtfully the past few years.
More precisely, changing the priorities of what is most important to me: friends, family and community.
All we have to decide…
A few years ago, my grandmother gave my brother, sister and me three of her favorite handmade quilts.
“I was going to give them to you grandchildren after I passed away, but I want to give them to you now so we can enjoy this moment together.”
She took the time to explain the meaning behind each quilt and why they were chosen for each of us. I am so thankful that she did this, instead of waiting to hear about these beautiful quilts after she died.
When I visited my grandmother this summer, I discovered that she had been printing my essay about my grandfather, her husband, who passed away. I hoped that I had made Grampy proud, but I realized that I never got to tell him how much I learned from him before he died.
It is for this reason that I am writing this essay now to make sure that she knows how much she has taught me. I am so proud of my grandmother and grateful to have had the opportunity to learn from her for 40 years (and counting!).
(I got a text from my dad yesterday letting me know that he read this draft to her at the hospital and she loved it. Mission accomplished!)
I certainly hope that grandma will be better and that she will be able to return home. After all, she told her friend Laurie “I’m not done yet!”
But I also know that it is not up to us to decide.
As Gandalf tells Frodo in The Fellowship of the Ring:
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time we’ve been given.”
I hope my grandmother and Thoreau can inspire you to live more thoughtfully:
- If you’re willing to put down your phone and be present with the people in front of you, life can seem so much richer.
- If you are willing to prioritize what is really important instead of things trying to steal your attention, you’ll never go wrong with the choices you make.
- If you can find a way to focus on the important people in your lifethey will still be a part of it when you are 94.
And finally, remember, no matter what you do today, this is the only time this the moment will happen.
Act accordingly.
-Steve
P.S: If you want a stimulating film about presence and Ichi-Go Ichi-E, I highly recommend Wim Wenders Perfect days.
