We have an obsession with "on this date". We celebrate birthdays and wedding anniversaries that represent milestones in our lives. There's even a feature on Facebook that allows us to see what we were up to on this date in previous years. But we also remember solemn dates, particularly anniversaries of when someone passed away.
Why is this such a big deal? When we remember one of these events, it basically means that the earth is in the same point of its orbit now as it was when that event took place. Maybe that sounds cynical, but I'm trying to understand this. I admit, I do this about as much as anyone. I've always had a good sense of history. I can remember my family's birthdays and when all my grandparents passed away. I even made plans for my two-year anniversary with my wife several months in advance.
This week (August 16, to be exact), will mark nine years since my Grandma, Merry L. Johnston, passed away. It was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. For a few weeks, I was going up to the hospital almost every day to see her, hoping her condition would improve, until on August 16, the doctor informed us that it's just not meant to be. A few hours later, she was gone. After she passed, I went into her hospital room to see her one more time. I remembered all the days I saw her that she was full of life, and of love for her family. Now, her body lay there at rest, and all those memories were in the past. She was now with God.
This wasn't the first person who was close to me who passed away. My first real encounter with death was when I was 12, when my Grandpa Heffel passed away. It was a difficult experience, but I wasn't old enough to really make sense of what it meant. Several other family members would pass away in the coming years, and each was sad in its own way. But Grandma Johnston's death changed my life.
Just a few days after she passed away, I went back to Hillsdale College after being home for the summer. For weeks, I felt a huge void in my life. I felt lost. I had a hard time concentrating in classes. I found myself constantly wanting to be alone. I felt helpless. I spent many nights just quietly praying to God, asking him for guidance through this time, though I didn't know how I would do it. I look back at that time as an incredible time of growth for me. Through it all, I learned to trust God in a whole new way.
I was 21 years old, and it didn't just feel like a family member died, but also my childhood. I used to see or talk to Grandma several times a week. Every time there was a White Sox game on TV, I would wait for her to call me and complain about how annoying their announcers are, just like she used to. But the phone didn't ring. The next summer, at my softball games, I kept hoping I would look up and see her walking up to the field carrying her lawn chair, but she never showed up. And every family gathering wasn't the same without the really good coleslaw she used to make. It's stuff like that I missed the most.
When something difficult happens, it's hard not to wonder why. Grandma was a wonderful person. I just always wanted to be around her. There were nights when I cried out to God, wondering why such a great person had to leave us. She didn't deserve this. But after a while, I started to feel like that was selfish of me. I wanted her here because I enjoyed having her around. She was in pain, and her passing away so she would not have to suffer anymore was for the best.
Even today, I still have dreams where her and Grandpa (who passed away in 2009) appear and I get to see them, if only for a few minutes. I'm not a dream expert, but I'm thinking that may be God's way of letting me know that everything is ok and that they are at peace. But it also helps keep their memory alive. Since I no longer get to see them, it gets more difficult to do this with the passage of time.
No one wants to die. No one wants to get old. But we have no choice. Our bodies age and we can't stop it from happening. We can take measures to improve our health, but it's a battle all of us will eventually lose. And it doesn't seem right that someone can no longer be with us just because their bodies give out. I cried a little at my wedding a couple of years ago because I thought about all those who have been a big part of my life but couldn't be there. But if we continue to remember them, year after year, they've never really left.
That's the significance of "dates". At least once a year, we need a reminder of why someone who is no longer around is important to us. We won't make any more memories with them, but we can hold the ones that we did make in our hearts.
It's also a reminder that we are carrying on the legacy of previous generations. In everything I do for the rest of my life, I am continuing the tradition of both the Johnston and Heffel families, adding my own chapter. I've been blessed and had more opportunities than most other generations in my family. And I also face unique problems and challenges.
What will my legacy be? I hope to make my family proud. I hope that for years after I'm gone, the next generations will look back at me and see someone who was worth emulating and whose legacy was worth continuing.
