Yesterday the kids and I were watching a DVD, and after I turned it off the tv reverted to the PBS channel that we had been watching before putting on the DVD. Right at that moment they were showing a documentary about a sport for which my grandfather was a very prominent national judge. I sat, transfixed, unable to change the channel. It was a profile of two teams as they prepared for and competed in the highest national level event in the sport. I saw people who I recognized, and I watched for a while, wondering when it was filmed, if my grandfather was in it.
About 15 minutes in, I saw the briefest glimpse of a judge's hand writing something on a piece of paper. It was quick, a fraction of a second, but I knew that hand. It was a left hand.
That hand held mine when I crossed the street as a child.
That hand used to circle my wrist, a small, tiny wrist, even as a teenager, as we wrestled to see if I could escape, because he was so strong but I was so skinny and flexible.
That hand wrote stories about his life for me so I would be able to hold his memories dear.
That hand cooked like a pro, with an amateur's love and joy.
That hand played with my children.
That hand, the day before he died, grasped mine fiercely, silently, warmly telling me how much he loved me, how much he knew I loved him, and that he'd see me on the other side.
But then the show progressed a little bit more, and I was uncertain, briefly, because all the judges they were showing were women.
Then another glimpse, this time of his face. Then another, longer this time.
I picked up the phone and called my uncle, made him put it on. He said that the night before he just kept feeling that my grandfather wasn't gone, just on a trip somewhere, like he was for so much of my life, especially in July. We saw him, still briefly, but about three more times.
As soon as the show was over I ordered a bunch of copies of the DVD. I don't know when it was filmed, but based on how he looked, it must have been close to the last event he ever judged. It is another small way I can keep him close.
I miss him so very, very much.
How lovely for you. I wish there was something like this for me and my memories of my grandma.
How I miss her. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Posted by: Redneck Mommy | July 13, 2007 at 12:38 PM