A woman and her dying grandmother
AT 20 months, my grandson Corwin is at the age where it's pretty tough to get a kiss out of him.Man was made for joy and woeAnd when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go
Joy and woe are woven fine
A clothing for the soul divine
- William Blake
He knows how to do it, but he's figured out that those who care for him place great value in a kiss and there's leverage in handing them out sparingly.
When he gets stubborn, you pretty much have to get him in a headlock and pinch his nose so the only way he can breathe is to purse his lips and suck in hard.
Which is why I felt the purest kind of joy the other day when, out of the blue, Corwin stopped playing with his toys for a minute and walked over to give me a kiss for no particular reason.
I've been thinking about the art of grandfathering lately because I've been vicarious witness to a remarkable relationship between a woman and her grandmother as the grandmother's life came to an end.
There's certainly little joy in death. When somebody is cruelly struck down before his or her time, it can plunge us into the most inconsolable despair.
But a dignified death at its proper time that follows a good life helps us accept that our lives are part of a grand continuum and mortality is part of the deal.
In the case of the woman and her grandmother, I've never met either. I heard the story from a friend of the woman.
The grandmother, who lives on the Big Island, was diagnosed with terminal cancer several months ago. She had lived a full life at 86 and accepted her fate.
The granddaughter, who works on Oahu, was devastated by the impending loss. She wanted to be with her beloved grandmother as death neared, to help her cope with the cancer's pain and spend every possible remaining moment with her.
Her friend said, "I never met Tutu, but I loved her because she loved Tutu so much. To hear her talk about Tutu - even the simplest things, like how Tutu would put on her rubber boots to go take care of her plants - you couldn't help but love her."
Tutu's wish was to die at home - in the same house on the Hamakua Coast in which her mother had died and where she had lived since she was a year old.
About a month ago, she went into hospice care and the granddaughter could take the separation no more. She took leave from her job and returned to the Big Island to join her brother in personally caring for Tutu in her home.
SHE was at her grandmother's side constantly in the last month of her life, so devoted to the loving care that she lost more than 10 pounds from her already thin frame.
All I could think about as I heard the story unfold was the profound satisfaction Tutu must have felt leaving this life knowing she had been the kind of person who inspired so deep a love in the people she left behind.
What better validation could there be that she had lived her life well?
I got a tiny taste of that joy the other day when my daughter Treena came to pick me up from work.
As I came out of the building I could see Corwin in his car seat scanning for me. He blew me a little kiss when he saw me and his smile lit up Kakaako.