These past few weeks have been unexpected and crazy and wonderful. It started with grieving. My grandfather passed away on my birthday. I anticipated this would happen. The last time I saw him I said goodbye. I called him twice from Chiang Mai and tried to revel in every strained word. I’ve tried to pay attention and to remember, knowing that every word, every memory with him, might be my last.
My brother called me with the news that evening. All I could do was to listen and to offer to help in anyway that a man who lives across an ocean can. Attending the funeral would not be possible. The ticket would be expensive, yes, but in addition to this the funeral was only a few days away, it was a weekend and a Thai holiday and my passport was in another city. Even if I could afford a ticket, I was landlocked by the law.
Slowly though, the impossible became possible. My parents offered to buy a plane ticket for me and a man who was in another country agreed to meet me at midnight in Bangkok on Sunday with my passport. I would fly out on Monday morning at 6 am. All of this was decided on Sunday afternoon.
So, I grieved with my family. I arrived in Atlanta, Texas late on the eve of Daddy Troy’s funeral. I enjoyed the reunion with my family. I slept. I woke six hours later to fed-ex Christy’s passport to her (she would be making the trip for Christmas after all), to visit my grandfather at the funeral home, and to write my part of the Eulogy. I delivered the Eulogy less than two hours after wrote and printed it. I edited my draft from a church pew as my brother delivered part 1.
Since the funeral and until I arrived in Chiang Mai a few days ago, I enjoyed many reunions with family and friends. Everything was unexpected. Every moment was cherished. I enjoyed every handshake, every hug, every smile, every conversation, and every morsel of the often greasy and excessive American meals.
So much of what I love in this life resides upon American soil. Family and friends; Church and Memory. Tex-Mexican food. Overpriced coffee made to be consumed with close friends in shops dressed like living rooms. Book Stores. Christmas tradition.
Thanks be to my mother for loving us all and for being a Griffin.
Thanks be to my friends for making the time to be with me and, to some of them, for posturing as if they were the ones who were receiving the blessing. There was a time when seeing each other was no big deal, just the normal stuff. Those days will come again.
When the clock struck zero on my visit to America, I was ready to go. I didn’t dash away. I took a long look. I left with the sense that there was purpose for me there, at home, but the time for that ripens still. There are things to do in Thailand. There is life to be lived here. I know that there are days beyond these days, but I mustn’t look beyond these or long for those. Life is too short for that.
Waiting; Expectation: these are good things, but to wait for life is to wait for death.
Strangely, this is the devil that tempts me most.
Lord, help us to live. Let us not lose one more day waiting for tomorrow.
