Not Long Enough

I was at my childhood home for four days. We sorted through pictures and memories. There was crying and laughing. We caught up with relatives and played games. We ate a lot of comfort food. We greeted guests and long-lost friends. We celebrated Grandma's life and grieved our loss. It was a full four days.

But today I’m still crying. I’m still laughing. I’m still thinking of more favorite memories. I’m still in search of comfort food. I want to lie in bed and watch TV with my sisters. I want to sit around the table and cry and laugh with my aunts. If you ask me how long I was home, I’ll probably say “Not long enough”.

My Grandparents were married for 67 years. They raised six children, had 13 foreign exchange students (some of whom for all intents and purposes became a part of the family), pastored churches, visited missionary friends around the world, and much more. Each new person who came to the house to pay their respects brought fresh tears for Grandpa. Each story, each song, each Bible verse….fresh tears. Watching a Twins game was a welcome distraction, I’m sure, but the matching recliner next to him was still empty. We left one by one, and Grandpa cried each time.

Clearly he loved his wife, but we’ve always known that. It’s how he lived. Clearly he misses his wife. She’s in a better place and she isn’t sick anymore, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss her. There was a birthday party planned for her birthday just a few weeks away, graduations to celebrate this spring, a wedding to attend this summer, more great-grandkids to be had somewhere in the future. You can tell by the tears that if you asked Grandpa how long they were married he just might say “Not long enough”.