If you could spend one last day with someone who’s passed, who would you choose, and how would you spend it?
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Several years ago I had a dream that has haunted me ever since.
In my dream, I was sitting at my aunt’s kitchen table with several members of my family. My grandfather was also sitting at the table, even though he died in 1991.
Someone—I don’t remember who—explained that we’d been given the chance to bring back my grandfather for one more day. In the logic of my dream, everyone could bring back a loved one from the grave, but just for a day—one final chance to spend time with them and say goodbye.
We take our lives, and the lives of those around us, mostly for granted. We assume that our friends and loved ones will always be there. It usually takes a tragedy of some kind of wake us from our complacency.
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That’s all I remember about the dream. It was short, just one brief scene, but I’ve thought about that dream dozens of times the last few years. I’ve often wondered what I’d chose to do if I could spend one last day with my grandfather.
I grew up in southern Missouri and lived next door to my grandfather. He loved to hunt, and my Dad would often go with him on their outdoor adventures. I didn’t enjoy hunting as a kid. In fact, I can only remember going squirrel hunting with my Dad and grandfather once.
As a child, I didn’t appreciate the significance of going hunting with Grandpa. I didn’t grasp that it wasn’t about hunting, it was about spending time together and being family. All I could see was getting up early and trudging out into the cold woods to sit for a few hours.
But if I could somehow go back in time and spend one last day with my grandfather, I’d go hunting. My Dad and I would put on our hunting gear and slip out the front door while it was still dark. We’d walk across the yard, shoes wet with dew, and knock on Grandpa’s door. He would answer, and we’d pile into his old yellow Jeep.
We’d drive on the gravel road out into the woods and spend the day hunting and laughing. We’d bag a few squirrels or maybe even get a turkey or deer. In the late afternoon we’d drive home to my grandfather’s house and enjoy a meal together. Then as the sun slipped over the horizon, we’d say goodbye for the last time. As I walk away I’d glance over my shoulder for a final glimpse of my grandfather, thankful for one last day, and thankful to have known him.
… instead of wishing for something that can never happen, what can we do to make the most of the time we do have?
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We take our lives, and the lives of those around us, mostly for granted. We go about our business, only halfway paying attention to the beauty and wonder around us. We assume that our friends and loved ones will always be there. It usually takes a tragedy of some kind of wake us from our complacency.
It’s an interesting question: If you could spend one last day with someone who has passed, whom would you choose, and how would you spend it? Perhaps the question itself reveals that we know how much life we’re missing all around us.
I would love to have one more day with my grandfather, or with any number of loved ones, for that matter. But instead of wishing for something that can never happen, what can we do to make the most of the time we do have?
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Photo: Flickr/anyjazz65
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Hi Kathy, yes, I would be honored to have you feature this post on your site! Thanks for asking. If you can email me at [email protected], I will send you a revised bio for your site. Thanks!
I enjoyed your story very much. I would like to feature it in the Moments & Memory section of the Wisdom & Innocence website. wisdomandinnocence.com is a website devoted to celebrating and enhancing the grandparent – grandchild relationship. Please let me know if I have your permission. I would be happy to add the link to this website/article.