this is my attempt at an eulogy.  homage to my grandmother.  what gets me is that, as far as i can tell, she has always been there.   she is how we come together.  gathering family, laying foundation.  somehow she is still here and somehow she is not.

i dare say that we are made of memories, assembled by experience, bit by bit.  we come together in glimpses.  yet, there are days at a time where we exist only in projected future.  we say to ourselves: well, when tomorrow comes…  forgetting altogether that this is all there is.

this.  moment.  here.

as i write here from the mountains, perhaps you are at the water’s edge.  toes in the sand.  ocean at ebb tide or maybe storm swell (you daring thing).  your footprints pull tidepools and you are actually sinking yourself into suspended sand.  your eyes fall from skyward to the curve of the earth, vanishing point.  from this place, you cannot see beyond sunset.  but here you stand, westwind rolling, bathed in day-end amber, never doubting tomorrow.  you say: clearly, horizon is not the end of the ocean…  remembering altogether that this is all there is.

i am in no position to make assumptions of the afterlife, save for that which lies with the living.  that which is held in our hearts.  that which has shaped who we are and assembled us bit by bit.  my grandma left me thinking of stonemasons- wall of rocks and the mortar between.  she has me with the touch of teal yarn on my fingertips, linking chain stitches, learning crochet.   she is handing us popsicles at the playground and playing cards at the kitchen table.  she is holding my hand just a few days ago.  and grandma, she has me standing here, clear in colorado, thankful for all that is shared and for precisely this moment here.

to my family.  my love to you all.