The Parting Glass

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I always feel a little emotional around October 21. The date has bilateral significance for me. In 1925 it marked the birth of my Grandma Ruth, and in 2006 it marked the last time I ever saw her. Her trademark sense of humor shone through in her response when I revealed that I was moving to China on her birthday--'well, that's a fine how-do-you-do!.' As I hugged her tightly goodbye, tears spilled from my eyes. To this day, I don't know whether they were tears of apprehension about my move overseas or if I had some premonition that I would never see her again. I do know that as she hugged me back, memories from my childhood came flooding through my mind. The weekend sleepovers at her house, smell of fresh coffee luring me awake; playing with her cats, Butch and Sundance, as the family bustled around the kitchen preparing the Thanksgiving meal; racing down our driveway on my bike as she pretended not to be worried; her attendance at every single piano recital, play performance, and orchestra concert. I remember hugging her almost desperately, trying to soak in the moment and make it last as long as possible. And then, we let go, and my life was never again the same.

This blog is not about my Grandma Ruth. In fact, she would probably be a bit embarrassed by my words above because she was such a humble and gracious lady. She wouldn't like to know that I was sad, nor that I sometimes feel that I could trade almost anything for just one more conversation with her. It's so easy to take those we love for granted. To think that they will always be there, waiting for us. But the truth is that we need to live now, in the present, and savor what we have at this moment. Otherwise, our regrets may be an eternal inward ache.

You may be wondering about the content of the video included at the top of this entry. The name of the piece is 'The Parting Glass,' though the origins of the Irish/Scottish tune are lost in the maze of history. The music was used in an episode of the TV show 'Brothers and Sisters' to illustrate the bittersweet decision to close a family business after decades of camaraderie and goodwill. As I sat on my sofa in Minneapolis, transfixed by the collage of scenes designed to represent each individual's memories, I started thinking about my own memories. All of the changes that have occurred in the past five years. If I could pinpoint the exact moment when nothing was ever the same, it was as I stood in the midst of hundreds of tropical flowers in a botanical garden two hours outside of Beijing, clutching my cell phone to my ear, as Dad gently told me that Grandma Ruth had passed on.

It's awe-inspiring how one event can set so many others in motion. Within the next year, my parents had moved their home base from Wisconsin to Arizona. The extended family no longer spent every holiday together. My move to China became permanent (at least for the moment). My childhood home was sold. My brother bought his own home. I used to feel surprised when I came back to the United States for a visit and discovered that things had changed in my absence. It felt like time should freeze when I wasn't present, but of course, that isn't the nature of time at all. Time marches on.

I sometimes wonder how I got to where I am today. It seems like just yesterday my brother and I were sneaking downstairs on Christmas morning to see what Santa left for us under the tree. I thought that once I was an adult, I would have all the answers. It turns out I just have more questions.

It's not all bad, though. We live, and learn, and grow. We make mistakes. We succeed. We fail. Sometimes, we triumph. That is the nature of the human spirit--to pick ourselves back up and try again. I'm not going to pretend that the past year of transition back to the United States hasn't been difficult. It has been, perhaps more difficult than anything else I've ever done. It meant letting go of expectations of things that didn't come to pass. It meant finding and working towards new dreams. It meant rediscovering what it means to identify myself as an American. But, most importantly of all, the past year brought me home. Not only home in the sense that I am back on my native soil, but back in the embrace of my family. A place that I didn't realize I desperately missed until I had returned. And, despite my occasional longings for the adventurous life I once led in China, I am now delighting in a new kind of adventure.

Grandma Ruth was right--family is everything. It's good to be home.

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Comments

[Ginger]

The Parting Glass
Merritt, What a moving blog! I love the "Parting Glass" with its Celtic sound. I am most familiar and have heard the Wailin' Jennys perform this as their final song in concert. Such a good sound! Yes this does evoke sweet memories of family and loved ones. It's fun for me that I spent many nights with my grandparents on my mom's side. Mat I were just talking about that- we lived an hour outside of St. Louis and Principia Lower School. I would stay the night on Mondays or Wednesdays for my ballet lessons. I learned to sew, to cook, to play the recorder, danced in their living room, snuck to the grocery store to get a candy bar, learned to play Scrabble and Cribbage and generally felt loved. It's cool that now I live in Middleton, where you grew up and in WI where my grandparents met and lived. Things do come full-circle and yes family is "everything." Much love, Ginger

[Aunt Tudy]

Family Is everything!
Thanks for writing your wonderful comments. I know that Grandma is smiling knowing that you are home and are on a great journey establishing a new life while treasuring the old. Have a great rest of the week. Homecoming is this weekend. GO BADGERS! Love, Aunt Tudy