The Full Texture of a Life

 *Originally published on Wordpress 09.02.2019

This summer I read a book that will stay with me forever (https://wordpress.com/post/graciewilde.com/304).  I listened to an interview this morning with the author of that book, Jayson Greene.  The core of his memoir centers around the tragic and unexpected death of his two year old daughter Greta. He vividly and poignantly describes the nightmarish details of that day and then recounts the aftermath of her death. He is talking to the interviewer about the last moments he saw and interacted with his living daughter. He was leaving her with her grandmother so that he and Greta's mother could have a date night and Greta and her grandmother could enjoy some shared time.  Jayson comments on his memory now of that day:

"There's so much regret there in the sense that you look back on that moment and you just naturally look back on an event and you say that was the last conversation I had with my daughter. That was the last time I saw my daughter. That was  the last time she saw her parents talking...but at the same time [sigh] it was holy.  It was the full texture of our lived existence. You know? That was it."

"The full texture of our lived existence." Something about that phrase has captured me. The full texture of a life.  The interviewer (Nora McInerey from the podcast Terrible, Thanks for Asking) reminds the listener that the full texture of Greta's life included her name in chalk on the sidewalk, her playtimes in the park, two tired parents and a filthy stroller that had been pushed all around Brooklyn by the people who loved her the most.  It included a grandmother who secretly fed her macaroni and cheese. It included the daily moments.

I began to wonder what is included in the full texture of my life. How about these items?

• Two adult children who make me feel pride and gratitude every day.
• Eight siblings who love me unconditionally and always.
• A white haired spouse who loves and takes care of me far more than I deserve.
• Books, books, and more books.
• A lovely 100+ year old home on a residential street in a quirky small town.
• A silly mutt of a mature puppy dog who makes me laugh and talk funny every day.
• Outings to the ocean where I breathe in majesty and beauty and breathe out calmness.
• Scars on the inside, scars on the outside.
• Iced tea and excedrin.
• Ghosts of relatives and friends.  So many ghosts and only more to come.
• An 18 year old VW bug named Oskar and a 15 year old Trek bike named Sam.
• Friends who listen and laugh, who are patient and kind.
• Predawn neighborhood walks, marveling at all the seasons of the year.
• Yoga friends and frustrations.
• Watercolor and acrylic pleasure and challenges.
• The long shadow of the past.
• Routines that ground me, travel that expands me.
• Roles that define me, now and back when.
• Questions, always questions. The ones without answers, mostly.
• Awe.

So there it is. The full texture of a life. Of my life.  Not everything, for sure. But this is what my life is made of, this is what I am made of. And more, I know.  Sigh.  Life is big, heh?