Last Thursday I made a special visit to see the burial site of my paternal grandfather. Since he died before I was born I never had the chance to know him in this life. Yet I have carried his eyes and mouth and head shape and name my entire life, physical proof that we all leave something behind when we leave this world.
It was a beautiful moment as I stood looking at the copper plate bearing his name and birth and death years. Here I was as face to face as I could possibly be with him for the first time in my life. I was acutely aware of how much I wish I could have known this church pastor and father and friend. I even whispered, "Hi Grandpa. It took me 31 years, but I'm here now" and couldn't help but wonder if there's a protocol for spirits meeting the living.
My hopes were high before we reached the cemetary, although I didn't know exactly what I expected from a plot of skeletons. Just before we left, though, I stood and took one last look at the length of his burial place. At that moment I clearly felt a hand rest on my shoulder and an arm across my back. I believe he met me there for that one brief moment, and we were connected there.
Perhaps the line that divides this life and the next is quite that transparent. And then again, perhaps it is. Life is fluid, flowing freely between us and those connected to us...from the people who stand behind us in line at the grocery store to those who share our genetic makeup.
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