The Tangrens

This morning very early my grandpa Harold passed peacefully away. He was a quiet man worked for his living at a GM plant in Michigan, loved sports and although they argued from time to time, loved my grandmother very much. In his passing those are the moments I remember most. Them holding hands. I remember being at their house and having a prayer, I can't remember now why, and as they knelt down together my grandmother grabbed my grandfathers hands and held them through the prayer. It looked like something that had become a habit of years and years together. A tradition of love and connection. I heard that in his pain he would get agitated when anyone got close or touched him. My grandmother pulled the reclining chair as close to the bed as she could and held his hand as they both slept. How grateful I am that the connection has not been broken with his death.

This week on the Today show I guess the news anchors have been finding their "roots" by tracing their family histories. One of the hosts had been surprised to find out that her grandfather had been a minister. It was surprising to me that she didn't know anything about her grandfather. I guess in this disjointed far flung world I should count myself lucky to have grown up in the presence and influence of all of my grandparents. I do feel lucky. I wish that for my children too.