DEAR GRANDMA

April 17, 2013
Dear Grandma,
It's been 13 years today since you passed from death to life. I can honestly say that not a single day has passed without a thought, or most days, many thoughts of you. How could I forget the individual who loved me more than life, was my greatest cheerleader, my advocate? How could I forget the lady who, to me, was the definition of grace and class? How could I possibly forget your love?

As a child, I lived for visits with you. I knew coming to spend time with you would mean going to the movies, going bowling and going to church. I knew that I was loved. I knew I would eat well, and it was almost assured that you would at some point make your famous fried apple pies. I suppose a favorite childhood memory always revloves around Christmas. You lived an hour and a half or so away, and you would always arrive at Great Grandma's house in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, just in time to put final touches on the meal, unload your bevy of gifts, as we prepared to turn our small family gathering into a community celebration. In addition to our family, it was always assured that friends of the family would stop by, in-laws of other relatives and cousins would all stop by to join us for the memorable evening. That was Christmas for me. Sometimes you would go home with me and my parents to await Santa's arrival at my house, and you were assured to stop by my dad's side of the family's gathering on Christmas Day.

As I grew into the teen years, you moved closer and that meant that you were in my life on a more or less daily basis. Your first order of business after you retired in 1989 was getting the piano tuned which had been at my house for years. Your next order of business was seeing to it that I was able to take piano lessons. I'm not sure, but I think this may have been one of the very few things I truly begged for as a chid, a request that was not granted until you stepped in. You always made sure that music was a part of my life, whether it was making sure we sat close enough so I could watch the organist at your church on Sundays or teaching me some of the great hymns of the faith as a child or making my dreams of learning piano come true. I know you were so proud of me when I would play for various church services at our church or at other churches or accompanying the chorus at the high school.

As I went off to college, I don't think there was a week that went by in which there weren't letters from you in my college mailbox. Your letters were popular, with my friends always wanting to know what you had to say. You were a famous person. All my friends loved you (those who knew you STILL do)! You always made sure I had everything I needed, and I'm certain that you supported me more financially than I will ever know. To this day, I have every letter you ever sent me from the day I left for college to the final letter I received from you, just a few weeks before you died, filed away neatly, sorted by postmarked date in a plastic bin in my closet. These are memories I cherish. It was your letters that probably inspired in me a love for writing, certainly of letters, (which is why I have chosen to write you tonight). After you died, I kept waiting for maybe two weeks or a month for perhaps one last letter from you. I finally realized that was not going to happen.

As an adult, as I was drawing near the end of my college days, I began coming into my own, and I made known, slowly, in a calculated, albeit natural progression that there were thing about me that I could no longer deny. Because I didn't want to live a lie to you or anyone else, I could no longer deny the fact that, as far as I could ever recall, I am gay. I also could no longer live my life as a Baptist, and found a spiritual home in the United Methodist church before being confirmed in the Roman Catholic Church (ironically enough, the Saturday two days after we buried you). My leaving the Baptist church did not sit well with you, and my coming out as a homosexual set even less well with you, but, toward the end of your life, you did apologize for not understanding. You made ammends. Perhaps you knew your time was short, and you didn't want to go with regret, or you didn't want me to live with that pain, but whatever the reason, I thank you.

As I contemplate the thirteen years that have passed since you departed this earthly realm, I pause tonight, and think of all the changes in the world, in my life, and in our family and wonder what it would be like if you were still with us here in the physical world. Spiritually, I know you are always with me, you are such an incredible part of me, I couldn't shake you away if I tried! However, there have been heartaches, and pains since you've been gone. You have four great grandchildren now. I haven't met them, but I am certain you would be spoiling them! The last time I saw you was a little more than two weeks before your sudden death. We were sitting on your sofa discussing my upcoming confirmation, and perhaps the last words you ever spoke to me, or at least the words which still resonate in my head, is the conversation where you told me that you didn't think that you would be able to make it down to Birmingham for my confirmation, that you were just too weak to make the trip. I have often wondered, did you know that you would not be there because you would be going to your eternal rest? Knowing what I know of death and dying, I have to with a great amount of certainty, say that you knew you would no longer be with us phyically.

I'm so thankful that God gave me such an incredible grandmother. You were, in every way, to me, perfect. I miss you so very much, always. I often wish you were still alive, and that I could have you come to Birmingham to visit me. I had only lived here two years when you died, and most of that time you were sick with your cancer. I was never able to show you around my beautiful city, a city that is even more beautiful now. But, I also know that you wouldn't want to leave that place of perfect peace where you are today. As I sit here typing this, I'm listening to two of the songs I chose to be played at your funeral service. "Midnight Cry" by Michael English and the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir and "If You Could See Me Now" by TRUTH. I believe that you are happy and whole, and I look forward to the day when we will be reunited. I know that you wanted your funeral at the church, and I did everything in my power to try to make that happen, but I was over-ruled. As long as I live, I'll never forget waking up the morning of the burial (the funeral was the night before), I looked in the corner of my bedroom and I heard you say to me as clear as day "It's ok, I know you did everything you could." I was glad then, as I am now, that you knew how much I loved you, and how much I wanted to do what you wanted. I can still remember the incredible sense of peace that fell over me in that moment, as though it had only happened this morning. I'm grateful that I was allowed to take your casket in the church that morning, before we had the brief graveside service, where we (my parents, your minister and maybe one or two others) opened the casket one last time, where I was able to tell you, in a very personal way, good bye. Some may have seen that as an act of selfishness on my part, but I felt then, as I do now, that I was doing the right thing, knowing that you would have wanted to be inside your church just one last time before you were laid to rest in the earth.

Here's my confession: I hope that where I am today is a place where you are proud of me. I believe had you been given a few more years here, that you and I would have been able to reach a much greater understanding of who I am as an adult. I think you would have probably been able to greater accept my sexual orientation, perhaps we would have had deep conversations about it, about my spiritual journey, which is an ever-evolving journey. I think that deep rifts I have with the family now might no longer exisit, because you would be the one who would be able to see things from all points of view, and be able to be the go-between, as you often were while you walked among us. I'd love for you to be here with me, you'd be really proud of my baby grand piano. The day I traded in your old Kimball Whitney piano for the baby grand, there were a few tears in my eyes, knowing with absolute certainty that you were looking down with a smile. I'd love you to go to church with me and see me play for mass. Most of all though, I wish you were here so I could tell you, simply, "Thank You" for encouraging me to puruse my dreams, for being such an integral part of everything I do, for being the one constant in my life. I don't know anyone who ever met you, who didn't think you were one of the finest people this side of Heaven. You touched countless lives in your lifetime, and I am beyond grateful that I was one of them. Thank you for abiding with me still, for still guiding me, even when I don't know it. I love you.

LOVE,
Your Grandson rkt

REST IN PEACE, AKP, 1928-2000

GRATITUDE 04.05.13

I find myself tonight lost in thought, contemplation, anticipation, and, most certainly, gratitude. This is Friday, and with that I pause to reflect on the thing for which I am grateful this week. I am grateful for so many innumerable blessings.

Tonight, I am grateful for a week in which I found encouragement in myself, from others, and quite possibly from the universe. I cannot imagine living in a world without text messages and facebook. They are my connection to my world. I have friends I see rarely, but know me like the back of my hand because we text so often. I have friends on facebook, many of whom I haven't seen in years, but they are right there at my fingertips. What a wondefully connected world in which we live. I'm grateful for words of love, encouragement and friendship.

I find myself lost in contemplation tonight. For the first time in nearly a year, I have worked a full Monday-Friday week and will have a regular weekend off. I am treating myself to a massage on Saturday, just because. But, I'm also very hopeful that I don't waste my weekend and look back on Sunday night and go "Oh, crap, where did the time go, and why didn't I accomplish anything?"

In addition to my weekend schedule, I find myself lost in contemplation and anticipation of things to come. I look at where I am in all aspects of my life and look at what I need to do to reach goals I have for myslef, what I neeed to do to set new goals for myself, and where I most need to grow. I contemplate people, relationships and where I need to improve. I am so grateful for the gift of contempation. I think it helps me always strive to become better.

This week I signed up for my very first 5K. It's an adventure to which I am looking forward. I am forcing myself to use the gym. I contemplate my body and where I want it to be. I don't expect to ever be a muscle man or anything of that nature, but i want to take care of what I have and do my best to make it stronger.

Here's my confession: The last couple of weeks of my life have been good weeks. Things were not always perfect, and, if I am being honest, have been exhausting, but I'm grateful for the friends who are around to encourage me, I'm grateful for a sense of self that is in continual improvement and I'm grateful for hopes and dreams. I can only pray that the weeks ahead see the hopes and dreams I have becoming clearer, or in some cases, coming into fruition. Having a grateful heart is so rewarding in a world where negativity tends to rule...