Time

The last real quality time I spent with my grandfather before he passed was a little over a year ago.

I was doing research for my final project in Adult Development & Aging. We got to choose from a few different final paper options, one of which was a phenomenological study of "successful" aging. In other words, interview someone who has aged well. Sound vague and open ended? That's because it was. Grandpa - to me, anyway - was the epitome of aging well, so I decided to interview him and pick his brain and get to know him better all under the guise of this school project. You see, we had watched Tuesdays With Morrie in this same psychology class, and I had become fascinated with the idea of having a close relationship with someone who is older and wise. This project seemed like a good excuse to turn ideas into reality. So I went. I came up with a bunch of questions. I asked away. And Grandpa talked away. I got to hear all kinds of stories I hadn't heard before (and Grandpa told LOTS of stories, many of which had become very familiar in the family). I recorded it all.

But I never went back and listened to all of it. We talked for nearly three hours. I started to take notes on it and hash out an outline for a paper that I would never write. I realized that the questions I asked were for me, not for the project. Had I adhered to the syllabus, I would have ended up with a really cool project. It turns out I did not. I didn't have the information I needed for a 7-page (or whatever) phenomenological study of again.

However, I got to talk to Grandpa late into the night and take in the aroma of pipe tobacco and the dim, soothing ambiance of his basement den with dark green carpet. I got to look into his eyes as he shared stories and wisdom with me. We shared laughs. I feel like Grandpa and I had always been pretty close, but this was a new level of our relationship. Ask and you shall receive, right?

Those three hours were an enormous gift - a gift of which I do not feel worthy. Warning: this may sound weird... but when you talk to someone that old and wise and get to really be with them, I think that's as close as you get to being in a room and talking with God. There are things you can only learn with experience and time. The more open you are, the more you will probably receive. Then, you will have more to give back to your grandchildren...but that is beside the point. Those three hours were a gift. A divine gift, even. Life-changing. But that wasn't even the best part of the trip...

At this point, Grandpa was starting to wind down from old age. Sharp as ever, sharper than a nail, but winding down physically. He wasn't supposed to drive anymore, so I offered to run a few errands with him. We ran by the pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions. I offered to go in the store for him, but he insisted on doing it himself. You see, it brought him pleasure to still to do things on his own. It also frustrated him to no end when people grew inpatient with his slowness.

"It might take me longer because I'm old, but I can still do it myself, (dammit!)"

So despite the fact that I hated to see him struggling to get in and out of the car and was somewhat worried he might fall on the way in or out, I let him have it his way. He made a point of thanking me later for being patient with him. We had a mutual understanding. I was there to help out (or offer to help), and it was his choice whether he wanted to accept or not. Pretty fair for an old man who has to wear Depends and can't drive anymore. The least I can do is let him have the pleasure of picking up his own medicine.

After the store, he was directing me back to the house since I am not very familiar with the St. Louis area. I forget the exact circumstance, but I ended up missing a green turn arrow because I was unsure where I was going and was trying to decipher his directions, which were very mathematical. He was an engineer after all. "Turn left after (x) feet. Head southwest on such-and-such road..." So I hit the red light instead of the green, and in my typical 21 year-old fashion, in a hurry to get everywhere, I apologized. "Sorry we missed the light. If I had been paying attention better..."

Grandpa, whose stern disciplinarian ghost still haunts my 4 year-old self for knocking something over in the bathroom way back in the day, just turned and smiled at me.

"It's okay. We've got all the time in the world."

He then proceeded to direct me back to the house in what was definitely not the most efficient route. Certainly not the quickest. Absolutely not the shortest. We drove on some pretty roads past beautiful houses. He seemed to be just taking it all in. I get the sense, though he never shared with me, that when he was younger he enjoyed Sunday driving.

Why are you in a hurry all the time? Sometimes, you really just need to relax and take it all in. After all, we have all the time in the world.

One of these days, when you're ready, you'll go back and listen to the three-hour conversation with your grandfather. You'll be ready when you can stand the thought of listening to your impatient 21 year-old self attempting to meet Wisdom half-way. Fortunately for you, he was patient, kind, and gentle enough to meet you where YOU were (certainly not halfway) and put up with your questions and naivety. More than put up with, he actually enjoyed it.


How many countless opportunities have you had to approach Wisdom but did not? How many times could you have talked through the night in that smokey basement? How many phone calls could you have made to get just one step closer?

Being hard on yourself fixes nothing. Just remember, from now on, that time is precious.

AND we have all the time in the world.