Nine years ago today my first grandchild was born, a tiny child named Keren Elyse – “Strength, consecrated to God.” Today I sat quietly in the place in Hawaii where, six years later, I was wakened in the early hours of a wet January morning with a phone call. Keren had slipped out of her earthly shell on the way to the hospital and entered heaven.
Full circle.
There are many firsts in life – first grandchild being one of those. Keren was an unusual first grandchild who taught me far more than I taught her. Her disabilities were severe, but her heart was huge and she loved us all fiercely. Nine years ago I would not have chosen a special needs child as my first grandchild, but God in his wisdom chose her. And I am forever changed and grateful that he did.
Losing the a grandchild suddenly, even when you know intellectually it could happen, is another first. I remember standing near her coffin with her next sister, the Bear, and talking about tents. The Bear was only three and working hard to understand the reality of death. We talked of how when we go camping we set up tents to shelter us. When we finish camping, we fold the tents and put them away. The tents are only temporary – but we are eternal. Somehow, that made sense to a three-year-old.
Coming back to where we were when we got that difficult phone call is another first. I was concerned that it would be painful, but it has not been. Time passes, grief is observed, grief is processed, and life goes on. The bustle of five boisterous grandchildren fills in the empty cracks left by the one who is gone. Keren is not gone – she is still part of the family.
It is difficult, though, in the bright sunset of the evening, looking across the blue of the bay, to feel anything but total peace. The birds are calling as the sun drops to the horizon. The noise of traffic faintly drifts up from the road far below. The smell of flowers permeates the growing dusk. I sit in silence and enjoy the still of the evening.
My life is richer because Keren lived, yet I am both stronger and more sensitive, because she died.
