The TriDad Life

Dear Beanpod,

We’re quickly entering into the Michigan winter. The days are getting short. And the time is flying by. You are six weeks old today, which by some accounts is a notable milestone. You are in that gray area between “newborn” and “infant.” Make no mistake, in your Dad’s eyes, the changes in you from day to day are becoming more and more perceptible. Your features are filling in, your expressions are becoming deeper. I have this urge to be able to communicate better with you, but then again, not at the expense of your growing up too fast.

It’s been a few weeks since I had a few moments to write to you. We’ve been busy in so many ways. That’s ok, I expected this would happen. But I seem to have the chance this morning and I’m going for it.

This past Saturday, we observed the federal holiday of Veterans Day. It’s an opportunity for us as Americans to take pause and make special recognition of those that have bravely served in our military over the years.

For me, this is a day that I always will think of my favorite veteran of all time, my Grandpa, your great Grandpa, Jack Darrah.

This year was a little different. Grandpa has been gone for over six years, but now, as I’d written to you a few months ago, he is joined by his wife of over 62 years, my Grandma, your Great Grandma Ann.

With you here now, we decided to take you to Lansing with us on this Veterans Day to visit the Darrah family plot. It was a beautiful fall day, perhaps one of the few we have remaining this year. Your Grandma placed flowers on Grandma Ann’s newly laid headstone, and planted an American flag next to Grandpa Jack’s. We prayed. We expressed how much we miss them, but also the happiness of a sort we can feel in sensing that they are now together in peace.

The truth is, those headstones, they just mark the passing. My Grandma and Grandpa aren’t really there at all. I don’t want them to be gone, beanpod. Veterans Day for me is another reminder that I can’t get them back.

And yet, this is not the end of the story. While I was looking at those headstones, grasping for meaning, I kept feeling like at any moment, they were going to walk right up to us, give us a hug, share a laugh. What I wouldn’t give for that now, just for a moment.

As we were leaving, your Grandma noticed that deer tracks were evident on Great Grandma’s plot. We laughed. Great Grandma loved her deer, frequent visitors to her backyard in Charlotte where she used to feed them. “Grandma loves you” she used to say to them as they ate the feed she left out.

On the way out of the cemetery, we were heartened even more to be greeted by two deer on the side of the road. They were walking together, seemingly heading into the woods, but stopped to take us in as we slowly crept forward in our car. We smiled and waved at them.

“That must be Jack and Ann.”

While death is a reality of life here on earth, we also need to keep hope that death might not be the true nature of things. While it might be silly to some, I like to think that somehow, beyond my understanding, my grandparents are now more connected to the true nature of creation than they ever were before. That, like the deer, they are running free, and someday, we’ll join them.

For now, we continue on in this life here on earth. We remember our veterans like my grandpa who fought to make this life the best it can be for future generations, knowing that the best of life is yet to come on the other side. While there is breath in our lungs, we should follow his example. We’ll do it, together.

Love,

Dad