This August is the fourth anniversary of my grandfather's passing, and I’ve been considering what kind of remembrance would be fitting. My grandfather was complicated. I loved him, and like most people that knew him, I was intimidated by him.
He had a gift for noticing things. As a kid, he pointed out things about me that he admired, instantly building my self-esteem. As I got older, he pointed out flaws I hadn't yet recognized in myself, and it was crushing. Being under his gaze gave me an adrenaline rush. In his presence, I vacillated between feeling like I was about to win a prize or step off the edge of a cliff.
The time we spent together was hugely impactful on me. When I was a kid, I told him I liked basketball, and he began taking me to Celtics games. We’d stop at Fanuel Hall, and he’d ask me to pick a place to eat — anywhere I wanted. I always chose pizza. Then we’d walk through the flower market, and he’d tell me to pick out flowers for myself. He’d check in with me throughout the game, thoughtfully looking for signs that I was losing interest. As soon as I did, we left.
We rarely spent any regular time together, it was always spectacular and completely different from the rest of my life. When I was a teenager, he asked me if I liked the Rolling Stones and if I would like to see a show. He arrived to pick me up the following night, and to my horror, he was wearing the exact same red plaid shirt I was wearing. I wanted to go back inside to change but was too afraid of offending him, so we headed to TD Garden as Abercrombie Twins.
A banker he worked with had gifted him the tickets, and we sat only a few rows back from the stage. It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. We stayed for the entire show. Afterward, he gave his assessment of Mick Jagger “I’ve got to give him credit. He’s one hell of a performer, but all the songs sound the same.”
After I graduated high school, I worked full-time in an Italian restaurant where he and my grandmother occupied a special corner booth every Saturday night. My grandfather beamed with pride and lavishly praised my work “I can’t believe you can carry all these trays!” It was a difficult job, but I enjoyed it, and I always looked forward to waiting on my grandparents.
A year later, when the restaurant closed abruptly, he recruited me to work for his company. I went on to spend many years working for him. Trying and failing to meet his expectations became consuming. I admired him and resented him.
It’s a relationship I couldn’t fully heal until he passed to the Spirit World. It would take me an entire book to explain my grandfather's dynamic character, and he’s written one that chronicles his journey, being raised by a single mother, from the housing projects of Boston to business mogul and philanthropist. But one interesting thing I’ll share is that he was a dedicated athlete.
I don’t think he ever called himself an athlete, but the man lived at the gym. He could ride 100 miles on his bike until he was in his eighties. When he couldn’t ride his bike anymore, he had a lap pool installed in his home. He drank kale smoothies and took supplements before they were popular.
This year I have found my way back to the gym myself. I stayed away for a decade as I was healing disordered eating and avoiding anything that resembled diet culture. I love to walk, swim, dance, and move my body, but the gym was a hard no for me. Until this recent heat wave, I thought, you’re strong enough to handle this. Why not give it a go?
So I have, and I’ve been enjoying it. I find myself lost in a playlist, not wanting to leave. My ideas flow freely, and I have visions and creative downloads that keep me typing into the note section of my phone lest I lose hold of one precious thought.
I feel close to the spirit world when I lose myself in this way.
Last week, my grandfather, the athlete, came to my awareness, and I saw him smiling. When this happens, I’ll see him in the periphery of my vision, inside my mind. I’ll notice the details of the side of his face. I noticed a small divet below his hairline that I completely forgot about. He seemed to be happy about my workout. Then he said, “This will improve every aspect of your life.”
Ugh…I know. No pressure, right? I don’t have the stamina to dismantle this comment about the gym fixing my entire life. So instead, I’m taking it at face value and applying it to the season I’m in. I’ll see where it goes.
Perhaps next, I could be influenced by a rolling pin-wielding grandma who loves to make sourdough.
I thought for this death-a-versary, the most meaningful thing I could do is to invite my grandfather to join me for a workout. I might even try the stationary bike that he liked so much.
And if I were going to go all in, I’d buy myself pink carnations from the flower market, drive to the beach, walk across the street to Jake’s Seafood, and order some plain grilled haddock with spinach. Listen to the Rolling Stones. Watch The Godfather.
Do our loved ones in spirit influence us? Or do we feel pulled to the activities that make them feel closer? Sometimes I’m not sure which comes first.
If you want to feel closer to your loved ones in spirit or plan a significant day to celebrate their life, consider what on earth holds their energy. What would their highest self do with one more day here? Do it in their honor and invite them to join you.
In the last year of my grandfather’s life, we did begin to heal our relationship, a process that’s been ongoing since he passed. I left my job at his company and began working as a professional medium.
When he became ill in the last year of his life, visiting him became easier, especially when I brought my boys. Every Wednesday, we’d bring dinner and sit on the couch and eat with him. I started out bringing home-cooked meals, and it eventually became pizza Wednesdays.
One of the last times I saw him, a few days before he passed, he asked for the first time about my work as a medium. “So tell me,” he leaned in, genuinely curious, “is it all just a bunch of bullshit?”
“No,” I told him. “It’s very real, it’s as real as you can imagine.” I saw something that looked like hope come over him. Likely, he was imagining a reunion with his beloved wife.
I’m sure we both find that conversation comical now. It’s freeing, being able to write this, knowing he’s witnessing it from the other side. That’s the important thing to keep in mind, especially for complicated relationships.
We have the ability to heal them because we’re both evolving, witnessing, and capable of seeing each other for who we truly are.
Love,
Sheryl
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This, all of this: “If you want to feel closer to your loved ones in spirit or plan a significant day to celebrate their life, consider what on earth holds their energy. What would their highest self do with one more day here? Do it in their honor and invite them to join you.”
My sister and I do this every year with our Thanksgiving Day pie extravaganza. I’m going to (more consciously) invite my grandmother, grandfather, aunt, and uncle along for the event. 😊
to echo Gwen, thank you always for sharing, this was a beautifully touching read.
This touched me so deeply. I never had a relationship with either grandfather (they both passed before I was born) but I loved feeling his paternal love for you through this piece. Thank you as always for sharing Sheryl 🤍🫶🏻💗🥹