Last Moments of Light

My life has been a whirlwind lately. I came down to Utah yesterday, getting the privilege of taking my good friend's engagement photos tonight. And although I wish that were all I had to do this weekend... there are still pressing deadlines - for the schedule that I didn't leave behind completely in Idaho - to meet. So last night after arriving in Salt Lake, I racked my brain to come up with something I could photograph for a project I have due Monday. On a whim, I headed to my grandmother's house - where a fantastic garden, and a particular angel statue that I had in mind, were waiting.

My grandma was standing just on the inside of the open gate in her front yard, bent over with some sort of plant clenched tightly in her fist. Grandma is a petite woman - small and stooped with the age of someone just 7 years short of a century. Regardless, she hasn't fully let time take its toll on her - and works harder than most people I know that are half her age and nearly twice her height. My grandmother is a rare breed.

Coming over unannounced, I caught her off guard. I could tell that she had been gardening for most of the day - with dirt-dusted hands, no make-up and a shirt that had water marks and streaks. Still, she was beaming because I had come to visit.

I asked her if I could photograph her angel statue in the backyard, and she followed me to the back where she sat on a bench while I photographed. She was silent for most of the time, only occasionally interrupting me with, "Did you know that this flower...?" or "I'm going to plant these right here..."

She and I returned to the front yard where I photographed more plants and bushes, with Grandma teaching and pointing out treasures that gardeners have an eye for. She seated herself on another stone bench next to the walkway, waiting for me. I was losing light as more time passed, so I finally gave up and sat down on the brick path at her feet - my head still reeling, wondering if I had taken enough photos of the statue for my project.

"Today was a beautiful day," she said, her chin resting in her hand. I didn't know what she meant.

"The weather?" I asked, getting ready to agree and still somewhat absent from the conversation.

"No, the people." She paused for a moment. "And you, you are the end of that day."

I was quiet. I mumbled, "Yes, I am the end of the day," but it felt like nothing in comparison to what she had just said. She isn't a woman of many words, but she is very deliberate about what she does say.

Grandma then told me about her day, and why it had been so beautiful to her. The way she opened up felt like a butterfly unfolding its wings - gently; telling me everything with no reserve, with no limit on words. She told me about the people she talked to, and the stories behind those people. She spoke and I listened - and I listened with all of me.

Inside, my heart was breaking. I felt her desire for the people she loved to know that she loved them - but not enough of them, myself included, were slowing down their lives to take the time to listen; to really listen. I couldn't believe myself - here was this incredible woman, someone that is literally a part of me, and I had rushed here preoccupied with a statue. Only when I had given up on furthering my project had I stopped to actually pay attention. Even with the good intentions I do have, I am still having to learn how to slow down in life.

She talked to me for what seemed like forever, and yet not long enough. I really came to know her in those last moments of daylight. She had been gardening all day, but I thought she had never been more beautiful.

Grandma DeeDee, I love you. What an amazing woman you are.