This is the second time I’ve dreamt about them in the last few months. The first dream was equally as painful as I watched them from afar, longing to be with them.
I wonder what it is about these people that stir such strong feelings. Truth be told, I didn’t know my grandparents very well. I loved them dearly, but saw them seldom- not because they weren’t willing, but because of our life overseas. And yet I yearn for them so deeply.
People can live long, beautiful lives, bear 10 children, and then return to dust the way my grandparents have. Houses full of memories can be sold to people who have no idea what special people lived within those walls for so many years. Life changes- sometimes beyond recognition- but family still remains, even beyond the grave.
Shortly after my grandmother passed away, I had an experience that taught me that my grandmother and I share a link, stronger than I had ever known. It was one of fear that then became faith. How I cherish that sacred link. The link to our ancestors is more than common genes flowing through our veins. It seems to reach both backwards and forward into a large, sweeping embrace that weaves into the fiber of our existence.
They are a part of my life today. I feel it. I know it.
And there will be day when we not only see each other again, but when we run to each other. I think that will be the day that our eyes will see clearly how our existences are intertwined, and we will thank God, with tears streaming down our faces, for His greatest gift of family.