Do you ever wonder how people will remember you? Maybe it's your signature scent, or a catchphrase that you use all the time, or even a color you always wear.
I do a lot of random, direction-less thinking during my morning commute to work, and this morning I saw a scraggly, old man in a very worn suit walking along Augusta Ave. He was one of those old people that you see at a bus stop, or a train station, and wonder where on earth they could be going. Usually because they look SO OLD that I am mystified at how they can even move around and do things like run to the store, or walk to work. Seeing old people walk on busy city streets breaks my heart-- I wonder if they even know that the whole world is rushing past them.
Seeing Mr. Suit jumpstarted a memory of my maternal grandfather's funeral. I remember parts of the funeral very clearly, and others are fuzzier. I was young, but not too young. I recall talking about his homemade pickles and his wry, biting sense of humor. At one point, the Pastor officiating the service opened up to the attendees and invited them to share a story or a memory about my grandfather with the group.
A hunch-backed old man stood up immediately, and I remember how my neck hurt when I tried to crane around to see who it was. He was in a brown, pin-stripe suit, holding on to the pew in front of him for support. I recall being shocked at the size of his knuckles against the simple brown pewback -- I didn't know what athritis was at the time. My mother whispered who it was in my ear - a man who had a large family, and was a successful businessman in the community, well-liked and well-known among the residents and throughout the county.
This man, who had immigrated to Wisconsin from Scandinavia, told us all about how my grandfather lent him his only suit for his first American job interview. He talked about how the suit, while he knew it was worn (and probably somewhat shabby by today's standards), made him feel like a king - and he aced the interview. Do we ever see examples of this kind of unanswered, unsolicited Christian fellowship anymore? At 80-something years old, it still made the man well up with tears of gratitude.
It makes me wonder about the suit I saw on the old man this morning. Who did it come from? Where was he going all dressed up? Will someone say something this wonderful about me when I am gone? What would I say about my loved ones? Will life ever be that simple again?
I miss my grandfather today.
I do a lot of random, direction-less thinking during my morning commute to work, and this morning I saw a scraggly, old man in a very worn suit walking along Augusta Ave. He was one of those old people that you see at a bus stop, or a train station, and wonder where on earth they could be going. Usually because they look SO OLD that I am mystified at how they can even move around and do things like run to the store, or walk to work. Seeing old people walk on busy city streets breaks my heart-- I wonder if they even know that the whole world is rushing past them.
Seeing Mr. Suit jumpstarted a memory of my maternal grandfather's funeral. I remember parts of the funeral very clearly, and others are fuzzier. I was young, but not too young. I recall talking about his homemade pickles and his wry, biting sense of humor. At one point, the Pastor officiating the service opened up to the attendees and invited them to share a story or a memory about my grandfather with the group.
A hunch-backed old man stood up immediately, and I remember how my neck hurt when I tried to crane around to see who it was. He was in a brown, pin-stripe suit, holding on to the pew in front of him for support. I recall being shocked at the size of his knuckles against the simple brown pewback -- I didn't know what athritis was at the time. My mother whispered who it was in my ear - a man who had a large family, and was a successful businessman in the community, well-liked and well-known among the residents and throughout the county.
This man, who had immigrated to Wisconsin from Scandinavia, told us all about how my grandfather lent him his only suit for his first American job interview. He talked about how the suit, while he knew it was worn (and probably somewhat shabby by today's standards), made him feel like a king - and he aced the interview. Do we ever see examples of this kind of unanswered, unsolicited Christian fellowship anymore? At 80-something years old, it still made the man well up with tears of gratitude.
It makes me wonder about the suit I saw on the old man this morning. Who did it come from? Where was he going all dressed up? Will someone say something this wonderful about me when I am gone? What would I say about my loved ones? Will life ever be that simple again?
I miss my grandfather today.
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