The Blink of An Eye

In Loving Memory - Chester Ream Gibbons (1911-1972)

It was Christmas Day, 1971. I was ten years old. My grandfather, who was an excellent cook and restaurant owner at one time, was preparing stuffing with me. He carefully showed me how to tear up the bread and season it, sautee celery and onions, and add oysters cut up with sterilized kitchen shears, all held together with turkey stock. It is a family memory I cherish to this day. It would be our last Christmas together as a complete family.

In the two months ahead, he perfected my spaghetti with me, then the more difficult lasagna. He made sure I knew how to fry chicken, grill meat, and bake bread. We had many international friends, so we made egg foo young and Brazilian BBQ as well. He bred horses, and we spent time together caring for them. And we read, oh how he loved to read. Never books for a little girl, though, but rather westerns and adventure books, like Huck Finn, and even occasionally Reader's Digest stories.

Sadly, just a few months later, in March of 1972, my grandfather would be gone. He died at age 59 of lung cancer, just days short of his 60th birthday and my 11th. My grandmother was a widow longer than she was married, over 40 years. This is the 45th anniversary of his death, yet I have such vivid memories of our life together. His imprint is on my life in many, many ways - we even nearly share the same birthday. He was the father-figure of my younger years. I'm a lot like him.

My small group has been studying the events and people from our early years that mold who we are spiritually. It's been enlightening and introspective for all of us to think about the life events that shape who we are. I think we all also realize how quickly things can change, so have gratitude for every moment. And we also realize how fleeting life really is.

I have often wondered if my grandfather knew he would die so young if he would have changed anything. I don't know if he was a believer, that is a widely discussed topic in my family. The one person who can tell us is gone. It is not mine to know for certain if he is with God. I can only hope.

Thinking about my grandfather this week has spurred me to re-double my efforts to focus my life on what's really important. I am currently moving. Seeing all my stuff always makes me take stock of my life. In some ways, I feel I've accomplished a lot. But there is so much more I want to do. It's a good time to take stock of my priorities and put my time and talents into what matters to God, and therefore to me.

If you knew your time here on earth was extremely limited, how would you spend it? What would become important to you? My grandfather knew in those last few months he was dying. He told me days before he entered the hospital for experimental surgery that he would not be coming home. I vividly remember the conversation. But in the time we did have left, he made pouring into me his top priority so that I, in part, would be his legacy.

So every time I make stuffing, spaghetti or Brazilian BBQ (ok, that one not so much), I think of my grandpa and smile at the love we shared. He put his life and love into someone who mattered to him. For that, I'm eternally grateful.