For the past few days I’ve been in Anchorage, AK visiting family and spending time with my grandmother (hence the slowness of blogging). I flew up here with my son and my parents in order to see her since she’s nearing the end of her life. The last time I saw her was about a year and a half ago when my sister got married and right after Cyril’s birth. In fact, her and my grandfather have come to just about every major event in our families lives (graduations, weddings, births, etc.). I lived up here in Alaska for nearly all of my childhood and being around them was simply an assumed reality. They have always been around, always.
In fact, now that I’ve been up here spending time with her, all of the prayer requests and discussions I had about her in the past few weeks seem so foreign and removed. What I mean is that two weeks ago when I was thinking about her and praying for her and telling others about her, none of this “end of life” stuff seemed real. It seemed so far away and so… well, distant. But being here and holding her hand, feeding her, talking to her, and just spending time with her brings back a lot of emotions and makes this, as cheesy as it sounds, real. The memories are a deep well-spring when I think about her and my grandpa.
I remember Grandma cooking the best Japanese food I have ever tasted. And all of the Japanese that I know, which isn’t very much, is due to her and Grandpa teaching me how to say “hello” and “thank you” and “please” and “let’s go.” My interest in Asian cultures stems largely from seeing the beauty displayed in Grandma’s life. The Japanese art work in this house is so beautiful, especially when surrounded by pictures of family.