Last week I flew to Massachusetts to visit my 94-year-old grandmother in the hospital.
Let me tell you about this wonderful woman.
Barbara, Aunt B, or Gramma to us grandchildren, was born in 1930 to the first generation of Newfoundlanders.
(No wonder I love the music of Alan Doyle (And Great Great Sea), it’s in my DNA!)
Gramma was a preschool teacher for 22 years and has been an active member of her community all her life. She was a damn good quilter and helped launch several quilting initiatives over the years. She was a volunteer with the Council on Aging. She also often drove for Meals on Wheels, “delivering meals to the old people” (as she called it), which she did well into her eighties!
On previous visits to Massachusetts, I would spend an afternoon visiting Grandma, usually checking my phone, often distracted by unimportant work thoughts occupying my mind. I think I’ve known her all my life and I just had this thought, “Gramma has always been there, and Gramma will always be there.”
Fortunately, I came across an ancient Japanese concept that helped me recognize this pattern and, of course, correct it. It made all my recent visits to Gramma decidedly different.
Ichi-go Ichi-e A unique opportunity
There is a concept dating back to Japanese tea ceremonies in the 17th century called ichi-go ichi-e:
This translates to: “one time, one meeting.”
It is a reminder for us to cherish and embrace every unrepeatable moment. No matter how many times we do something or see someone, it is the only moment when it will actually happen in this way, in this moment.
This concept can remind us to be more present.
- Instead of checking our phones, we can focus on the person or task at hand.
- Instead of worrying about tomorrow or moving out, we can be here now.
- Instead of going through the motions, we can be a little more intentional about our behavior.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Japanese Zen philosophy in recent years (see my essay on Wabi-Sabi), and this concept of ichi-go ichi-e has also stuck with me.
Which brings me to my travels to visit Gramma this summer.
I stopped worrying about the future or worrying about the past, put my phone down and just sat with her.
I treated every visit as if it were the only time for me to get that interaction.
I asked her questions about her childhood. I learned that she lived in a tent for a few summers without running water or electricity while her father built their house with his own hands. And how much they loved it.
She told me about her teenage years, including the time she snuck 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 from her wedding that I had never seen before:
She also found some pictures of me and her from back in the day!
This one was my favorite:
I returned to Nashville last month, not sure when (or if) I would see her again.
It still felt different. I had bonded more deeply with Gramma over a few visits than I had probably had in the last ten years combined.
That brings me to the past week in the hospital.
Gramma’s Community
Last week my brother and I drove every day to see Gramma at the hospital.
And every day a revolving door of guests showed up to check on her:
Her nieces and nephews. My uncle and father. My sister and mother (who just had surgery!). Her grandchildren. Her best friend’s son. Her friend Anna. Friends of the Council of Aging. Fellow quilters. People from her church.
At one point there were ten of us visiting at the same time and it was an absolute blast.
I was in awe of this woman and how many lives she impacted.
If there’s a sure sign of a life well lived, it’s being surrounded by people who love you. Gramma has been selfless for much of her life, and I was amazed and inspired by how many people dropped everything to spend time with her, swap stories, and keep her company.
Despite the circumstances, she still has a great sense of humor:
The first time she opened her eyes and saw me, she smiled and said, “I remembered a story!” She then told me about the time she “borrowed” a car, even though she didn’t have a driver’s license yet, to drive through the streets of Boston to track down her boyfriend.
While on the phone with her 94-year-old brother-in-law, she asked, “How are you, old guy?”
When the doctor asked, “Are you feeling better today?” she replied “better than WHAT!”
Spending time with Gramma and all the people from different parts of her life felt like the best possible use of my 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 made by the “neighbor” of my Gramma hospital…
Live consciously
The hospital where my grandmother stays is right next to Walden Pond, the pond made famous by Henry David Thoreau in his book Walden.
One day, after visiting Gramma, I took a leisurely walk around the area, watching the light of the setting sun dance through the trees.
(The Japanese also have a word for this, it’s called “komorebi”.)
Then I read the sign with Thoreau’s most famous reflection:
“I went to the forest because I wanted to live with purpose, to face only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I died, find that I had not lived. .”
Thoreau retreated into solitude to discover what was most important to him.
Gramma went in the opposite direction and prioritized what was most important to her: family, friends and community.
Two different scenarios, same end result:
Choosing to live consciously.
I have no plans to move to the woods and live simply, but I do think I have done my best to live more consciously in recent years.
Specifically, I am once again prioritizing what is most important to me: friends, family and community.
The only thing we have to decide…
A few years ago, Gramma presented my brother, sister and I with three of her favorite handmade quilts.
“I wanted to give these to your 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 it was selected for each of us. I am so grateful that she did this, instead of waiting to hear about these beautiful quilts after she passes.
When I visited Gramma this summer, I discovered that she had printed my essay about my grandfather, her husband, who had passed away. I hoped to make Grampy proud, but I realized I never got to tell him how much I learned from him before he died.
For that reason, I am writing this essay now to make sure she knows how much she has taught me. I am so proud of my grandmother and I am grateful that I have had the opportunity to learn from her for 40 years (and counting!).
(Yesterday I got a text from my dad letting me know that he read this concept to her in the hospital and she loved it. Mission accomplished!)
I really hope Gramma gets better and can go home. She finally told her friend Laurie, “I’m not done yet!”
But I also know that this is not for us to decide.
As Gandalf tells Frodo to come in The Company of the Ring:
“The only thing we have to decide is what we are going to do with the time we are given.”
I hope my Gramma and Thoreau can inspire you to live more consciously:
- If you’re willing to put your phone down and be present with the people in front of you, life can feel so much richer.
- If you are willing to prioritize what really matters Instead of the things trying to steal your attention, you will 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 part of it when you are 94.
And finally, remember: whatever you do today, this is the only time this moment will happen.
Act accordingly.
-Steve
PS: If you want a thought-provoking film about being present and Ichi-Go Ichi-E, I highly recommend Wim Wenders’s Perfect days.