My Two-Cents: Quiescent-ness
Recently, my grandma passed away. In the last couple of years of her life, I worked at the nursing home she lived at. I got to know her from a different angle and hear her stories through the eyes of a 20-year-old instead of a 6-year-old.
As a kid, I remember going to visit her and my grandpa in Sioux City and entertaining myself with her massive jewelry collection. I remember her weekend visits that were usually accompanied by Hy-vee cheesecake, giving me something to entertain my sweet tooth with. I remember begging her to play house with me under the stairs – something I couldn’t quite persuade my claustrophobic grandpa to do. I recall listening to her stories of growing up on a farm, something quite alien-like to me. But most of all, I remember her quiet presence. There she was, always sitting in the corner at birthday parties and what-not, just being present and taking it all in. Speaking with kindness when called upon, but being undisturbed and aware in the moment.
As a 20-year-old, I got to spend some time with my grandma in the last couple of years of her life. I was able to listen to her stories but value them a little more. The most considerable aura she gave off to me was still her ability to be quiescent in unquiet places. She never seemed bothered by the rambunction around her. In a world caught up in projecting, she was comfortable and able to be objective. It can be hard to take a step back from all the commotion, but mastering the trade allows you to read between the lines. It enables you to take in all the chaos in all its glory. Instead of moving with the scenes, you get to watch them and enjoy the show.
There are a lot of things I will miss about my grandma, but also, I think there are important things to learn from the passing of life. For one, actions and words are all the more meaningful because our time is finite. Also, the tidbits and isms we learn and pick up from the ones we love stay with us. The counterpart to death is life, and it is carried on through the living. There is a deep sadness that accompanies that, but there is also the opportunity to carry on the happiness that loved ones once brought us. I know my grandma taught me how important it is to try to learn to be present. To be okay with being quiescent in unquiet places.
