I was thinking last evening that I miss the comfort of hearing the grownups talk – parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles laughing, sharing family news, playing cards while we kids / teenagers / young adults hung around the sidelines or listened from the next room. My father died in 2017 (in fact, tomorrow is the 3rd anniversary of his funeral) and my mom passed in December. I live far from my aunts and uncles now and don’t see them often, but really these overheard conversations had been growing quieter and quieter for years before my parents’ voices were silenced.
As I was mourning this loss (we are mourning so much now, yes?) I walked past our guest room and saw a light under the door. I went into the room to turn off the light, having no idea why it was on in the first place, and saw a Jim Harrison book that belonged to Grandma Genevieve, that I’d left on the nightstand sometime last year. Opening the front cover, I found a note from Jim (he and Genevieve corresponded quite a bit), and then opened the book at random to the page in the last photo.
It turns out I can still hear my elders if I listen closely. Thanks Grandma.