Remembering...and moving on

This summer I went to Michigan for my vacation.  While I was there we had to go to Grandpa and Grandma Roberts' house to get some things (furniture) as they were preparing the house for sale.  Grandpa and Grandma are reaching the end and in a nursing home.  It was a surreal experience for me as it was the first time I'd been in that house in several years.  Nothing had changed.  I walked in and it was like I stepped back in time.  There they were, sitting in the kitchen, excited to see me.  (My trips home at that point were few and far between.  Why take a vacation downstate when you live on Lake Superior?  Besides, I always met the family at the Straits.)    I continued into the dining room, now empty, but I could see the table.  My mind took me back to one of many family reunions.  It was a huge family so there were always a ton of people there.  I was sitting next to Grandpa talking about who knows what.    On the porch I envisioned the large round plastic table.  Some of you may remember it.  It had the cloudy surface with the white trim.  On top was the large bowl of fruit that Grandma always had at every family reunion.  Cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, green and red grapes, bananas, and who knows what else.  

It was a tri-level house and people in the 50s and 60s must have been much shorter because I've always had to duck going down those stairs.  I think everyone has.  As I waled downstairs to the second level I could see all the pictures had been removed. I didn't recall pictures being on that wall but the family has grown quite a bit over the last fifteen years.  Grandma had pictures everywhere so it wouldn't surprise me if there were pictures on that wall when I was growing up.  I walked into the room downstairs and there was Grandpa's TV.  The big box TV.  The one from the 60s  A box with a screen.  He always watched Charles Stanley on that.  The second thing I saw was that Great Grandpa and Grandma Roberts' picture was gone.  As long as I can remember it was always the first thing I saw when I walked into the room.  I think that snapped me back to reality.  After we moved the furniture Dad showed me a bunch of houses that Grandpa built.  What a heritage!  Even now, riding with Dad occasionally he'll point to a house a say, "We built that.", or "I remember working on that."  If I'm lucky there will be some unique story that goes along with it.

Over the years I had built up a dislike for my Grandparents, especially my Grandpa.  The reasons are unimportant.  What I came to realize though was that as you get older, you start to see more death or people approaching the end of their lives, your perspective changes.  Grandpa and Grandma are both nearing the end and I know now that any irritations or annoyances were just that.  Did I think they were more?  Yes.  But in the end they really weren't all that important.  The question I'm asking myself is "What do I consider to be important?"  More importantly, what will I do with it?