I like to listen to people. I like to hear stories and bits of wisdom. Sometimes they come from young people pointing out the obvious with a child-like innocence that cuts through the distractions with a clarity we’ve lost with age. Sometimes these bits of wisdom are passed down from older generations. If you’re lucky and you listen long enough, the real gems are the ones the older generations were taught when they were young.

I’m fortunate enough to have had a few of these opportunities and I had the presence of mind not only to listen carefully but also to record my family members. Thanks to the voice memo feature on my iPhone and an appreciation for oral history I have hours of interviews with my grandfather compiled over a few years worth of visits.

I broke a few rules. I never asked him or discussed the idea. I also had my husband do the dirty work. Whenever my grandfather started talking, my husband just hit record and slid his iPhone closer like a cool detective in a crime show.

No fool, my grandfather took one look at the phone and asked, “Are you recording me?” My husband nodded, and after a moment of thought, my grandfather gave a little smile and kept talking, making sure to add in plenty of details. I think if asked, he might’ve had a different response, but since we didn’t ask, he didn’t have to decline out of polite humility. I think he wanted his story told, so when the recorder appeared, well, that was that.

Here’s one of his more tame clips for your listening pleasure:

Now, you’ll notice the title of this post. My grandfather has been in the hospital for a few weeks, and while we are praying for a recovery, things have been emotional. I had to cancel my trip down to see him due to the pandemic.

Back in March, at the beginning of the pandemic, I cleaned out my closets, baked sourdough bread, knitted, worked from home, and wrote another novel. Since then I’ve spent time with my immediate family and started my garden. Once my grandfather got sick and had to be in the hospital the severity of the situation hit me. I knew what was happening before, but until someone I loved was in danger, I didn’t understand the level of sacrifice this pandemic is asking from all of us.

I don’t have any positive words to close all of this. As much I want to find some, I’m coming up short and have struggled to reconcile everything that is happening.

I am reminded though of another piece of wisdom, not from my grandfather, but from his wife of sixty-six years. She didn’t come up with this piece on her own, but was taught it by her old great aunt, who was blind, hadn’t graduated high school, and was very wise. This Cajun lady would call when my grandma was struggling with four young children in a time before disposable diapers and fancy baby toys. She would say to grandma, “The sun can’t shine all of the time. Sometimes it’s got to rain. That’s how we grow.”

If you find yourself unsure of what to think or do, just know at the end of the day, we’ll all grow to be different from this experience.

It is now almost eleven o’clock at night. The beginning of this post was written in the morning. Since then I have just learned that my grandfather has passed away, which makes this even more meaningful.

“Sometimes it’s got to rain. That’s how we grow.”

Kathryn