Some long cheesy musings about the meaning of life...
On Saturday morning, we woke up early and dragged the cats to the vet for their annual checkup. This year, we had to leave them there and come back and pick them up later, which we'd never had to do before. They were both very angry about going to the vet and made their feelings known, very loudly, the whole car ride there and back. I wasn't crazy about getting a vet bill, but they both got a clean bill of health, fortunately.
All in all, it was a pretty quiet weekend around these parts, especially compared to what Athena did this weekend. She went and had a baby. I'm an aunt! My nephew Abram, to be called Bram, Athena's longtime favorite boys name, was born on Saturday morning, at around 2:30 am Colorado time. He is healthy and pretty darn cute, too.
Life is such a strange thing, isn't it? Nobody this close to me has ever had a baby before, and I've been thinking so much lately about birth, death, and how we spend our time inbetween. September is a kinda heavy month for our family. September 11 would've been Grandma's 87th birthday. Today, September 18, is Aunt Carolyn's twelve-year deathiversary. (The day she died was also the last day I ever saw Dad, who died less than a month later.) And now, we have another September birthday, Bram's on September 17. He will never know Aunt Carolyn, or Grandma, or her old house, or so many other people and places. All the things that Athena, Sara, and I did together growing up will probably seem ancient and distant to him, just like my parents' childhood does to me. Our old swimming pool, where all of us spent so much time growing up, doesn't even exist anymore.
Bram will only ever know Grandma and Aunt Carolyn through stories and photos. That was the only way I ever knew three of my four grandparents, and now that I think about how much Bram has missed, it really drives home, in a whole new way, how much I missed. It also makes me think about the other end of the spectrum, about how much I will miss after I die, about the other children and future generations that I won't be around for. Life is just bittersweet that way, I guess. It's like the song: "Soon, I'll be sixty years old. Once, I was seven years old."
I so hope that Bram will have a long, happy, healthy life. I hope he will see and do and learn as much as he possibly can in this world. I hope that I can be even half as awesome an aunt to him as Aunt Carolyn was to me. (Although, sadly, I don't think that's very likely. I've never been good with kids or at maintaining relationships. I wish that weren't true, but it is.) It's hard to imagine that this new baby will be an old man someday. It's hard to imagine that people I only ever knew as old, like Maw-Maw and Grandma, were new babies once, too.
The High Holy Days are almost here again. At remembrance services, we sometimes sing a song that goes like this: "In the garden, there's a tree, planted by someone who only imagined me." It is about the gift that older generations leave behind for those who come later. But what is that gift, exactly? I think it is the influence that we leave on the people between us. I think Aunt Carolyn was such an awesome aunt to me because someone I never knew had been awesome to her. I think Grandma was such a loving, generous person because someone I never knew had taught her to be that way. They were the trees, planted by someone who could only imagined me. They taught lessons about love, generosity, and committment to me, Athena, her family, and so many people who will love Bram as he grows up. Now we are the trees that they planted for someone they could only imagine.
Welcome to this world, Bram. Enjoy.
All in all, it was a pretty quiet weekend around these parts, especially compared to what Athena did this weekend. She went and had a baby. I'm an aunt! My nephew Abram, to be called Bram, Athena's longtime favorite boys name, was born on Saturday morning, at around 2:30 am Colorado time. He is healthy and pretty darn cute, too.
Life is such a strange thing, isn't it? Nobody this close to me has ever had a baby before, and I've been thinking so much lately about birth, death, and how we spend our time inbetween. September is a kinda heavy month for our family. September 11 would've been Grandma's 87th birthday. Today, September 18, is Aunt Carolyn's twelve-year deathiversary. (The day she died was also the last day I ever saw Dad, who died less than a month later.) And now, we have another September birthday, Bram's on September 17. He will never know Aunt Carolyn, or Grandma, or her old house, or so many other people and places. All the things that Athena, Sara, and I did together growing up will probably seem ancient and distant to him, just like my parents' childhood does to me. Our old swimming pool, where all of us spent so much time growing up, doesn't even exist anymore.
Bram will only ever know Grandma and Aunt Carolyn through stories and photos. That was the only way I ever knew three of my four grandparents, and now that I think about how much Bram has missed, it really drives home, in a whole new way, how much I missed. It also makes me think about the other end of the spectrum, about how much I will miss after I die, about the other children and future generations that I won't be around for. Life is just bittersweet that way, I guess. It's like the song: "Soon, I'll be sixty years old. Once, I was seven years old."
I so hope that Bram will have a long, happy, healthy life. I hope he will see and do and learn as much as he possibly can in this world. I hope that I can be even half as awesome an aunt to him as Aunt Carolyn was to me. (Although, sadly, I don't think that's very likely. I've never been good with kids or at maintaining relationships. I wish that weren't true, but it is.) It's hard to imagine that this new baby will be an old man someday. It's hard to imagine that people I only ever knew as old, like Maw-Maw and Grandma, were new babies once, too.
The High Holy Days are almost here again. At remembrance services, we sometimes sing a song that goes like this: "In the garden, there's a tree, planted by someone who only imagined me." It is about the gift that older generations leave behind for those who come later. But what is that gift, exactly? I think it is the influence that we leave on the people between us. I think Aunt Carolyn was such an awesome aunt to me because someone I never knew had been awesome to her. I think Grandma was such a loving, generous person because someone I never knew had taught her to be that way. They were the trees, planted by someone who could only imagined me. They taught lessons about love, generosity, and committment to me, Athena, her family, and so many people who will love Bram as he grows up. Now we are the trees that they planted for someone they could only imagine.
Welcome to this world, Bram. Enjoy.