I decided to share with you the story that earned first place last year at our local writers banquet.  I am hoping one day to have it published in book form.  I would really like to have some paintings or drawings published with it as I think artwork sometimes helps in story telling and in reading books to groups.  One project at a time, right?  I have so many different ones that I’ve been working on for so many years.  This one I first wrote back in 1977.  It was four pages back then.  I’ve changed the names of the characters a few times I think over the years and I like the ones I’ve chosen.  Michael – well – he’s representative of an angel to me.  His first name was Jimmy – named after a cloth doll I had when I was a little girl – he went everywhere with me and I told him all my secret hopes and fears.  The story is fictional, it always has been and yet the feelings are not fictional – they are very real – and I think experienced by many people.  I hope you find this story healing and hopeful.   Since the banquet I have continued to work on this piece – I am placing it here as it was written at the time of winning first place at the Forty Eighth Annual Golden Crow Banquet.

 

What Matters?

copyright (c) June G Paul, Golden Crow Winner 2013

 

The sun had set long ago; the moon was at its peak as Addie sat, silently staring at the dappled, deep blue canvas.  she had been sitting here, on the grassy hill near the edge of the beach, since long before dusk.  Her family would be wondering by now, where she was.  But her husband would know.  Michael always understood when she needed time alone in order to sort out her thoughts and feelings.  He knew where she would go when she needed to be alone with her thoughts. Her own family didn’t seem to understand this need, except Gramps.  Gramps understood because he was the same way.  While the rest of the family didn’t understand why or know where she went, Gramps and Michael knew the special places Addie went to when she needed to quiet her mind and soothe her soul.  Today, this was the most logical place for her to go.  She knew Michael would know where she was and when to come and find her.

As the reflection of the moonlight danced upon the waves of the darkening water, she tried to remember how long she had been sitting there, motionless on the dunes.  The air was cool, crisp and damp; Addie felt a chill rundown her arms and back, causing her body to shudder just a little.  She sighed deeply while the cool moist breeze caressed her face.  What time was it when she left the gathering to go for a walk?  She wondered, as she noticed the sun setting, what it was now; then decided it didn’t matter, time didn’t matter at all.

Or does it matter?  She rolled onto her hip and stretched out her legs, pressing her elbow into the wet sand she shifted her eyes to another view.  Addie gazed carefully at the stars peeking out through the bluish gray sky.  Addie had been concentrating on every thought and this one about what mattered and what didn’t matter was becoming a little burdensome, gnawing at her mind almost constantly.  She kept trying to throw it out, but it kept springing right back, stinging her harder and harder each time.  Did it matter that she was here on the dues and they .  . .they were home, eating and drinking, talking and laughing in their black mourning suits and dresses?  Did it matter that no one seemed to think she had memories of him too?  Didn’t that matter to anyone else at all?

She picked up the word matter now, and held it, letting it fill her mouth, silently rolling it, slowly and carefully turning it, feeling every letter and meaning the word had.  Then slowly and quietly she let the word move out of her mind into her throat, over her tongue and through her lips:  m a t t e r.  She listened carefully to the sound of the soft  t’s and then she pushed the word out again, faster, louder and harder and it came out like this:  M A D D E R, with a hard t sound. As she listened to the sound of the word this time, Addie thought out loud; That’s it! I’m mad!  I  am  mad!  I’m angry! I’m mad because I miss him, I miss Gramps too!  Why did he have to die?!!

Now that Addie had finally broke down and said it, she felt it and after that expression of anger, the sorrow of her grief began spilling out.  Addie began sobbing, her whole body shaking while she crumpled into a ball, curling up like a little baby she rocked herself back and forth, like the waves of the water washing on the shore.  She let the tears wash out of her eyes, flow down her cheeks, drip from her nose and chin and spill to the ground.  She missed him so much and it did matter.  the loss of his presence in her life mattered so much it was like having a hole in her heart.  Finally some memories of time spent with Gramps began to flow through her mind filling her emptiness.  She loved this place even more now because this is where she and Gramps came for their ‘together time.’

She and gramps would pack themselves a lunch in a brown paper bag in the late afternoon and walk together through the woods, the tall trees offering shade from the hot summer sun, or protecting them from the brisk spring and fall winds or catching the flakes that floated down from the sky during the winter months.  They had walked through the woods and come to this place once a month for years.   More often than not it was a quiet walk.  Not that they had nothing to say to each other, but words would have intruded on their closeness to each other and the earth in the beauty of the natural setting.  Even though Addie and Gramps hardly made a sound, the woods spoke to them both, filling their ears with all kinds of sounds; twigs crackling beneath their feet, leaves whispering in the wind, birds and crickets chirping their little songs while small four footed friends scampered on the ground and squirrels ran up and down the trees, chasing each other about while making their little kissing sounds.  And of course, the wise old owl always asked, Whoo?!  Whoo?!”  Addie would answer back saying; “It is wee! Wee, and we’re just passing through, through!”  She would skip circles around Gramps until he’d chuckle, tap her shoulder and toss his head to one side signaling her to move over so he could walk next to her as they came closer to the clearing.  She could almost feel his hand resting on her shoulder now as she gazed at the line where the woods edged the field.  Breathing in deeply she held the memory as long as she could, then let it go with a slow sigh.  She smiled ever so slightly as her memory continued.

Just about dinner time they would reach the edge of the woods and come upon the field.  Gramps, puffing quietly, would watch Addie kick off her shoes and run, full force through the tall grass.  Sometimes she would stop in the middle and twirl around with her arms stretched out, chin up and sing at the top of her lungs.  She’d make up a new song each time and when she finished she would elegantly bow, one foot behind the other, knees slightly bent, bending at the waist with one arm reaching down to the earth and the other stretching toward the heavens.  Gramps would holler: “Encore! Encore!” Clapping his hands loudly until she would start running back, then he would stretch his arms out, catching her he would wrap his arms tightly around her.  When she was younger he would pick her up and twirl around with her, throwing his head back and laughing with her.  As she got older he would hold her arms up and as they danced together on the ground, she would smile up at this wrinkled, gentle face, staring into his deep midnight blue eyes and it seemed as if their souls touched.  There was no one else on earth who could ever take his place and now he was gone.  They would never dance together or walk together again.  She wondered if their souls would ever meet again.

Sighing deeply, Addie wiped the tears that were spilling out of the corner of her eye and rolled over.  Turning away from the water’s edge she looked beyond the sandy beach, past the field into the woods that she had just walked through alone.  then she realized – – – she hadn’t danced in the field today.

Did it matter that after walking through the woods with Gramps and after her little performances she would walk back to meet him and they would continue walking hand in hand across the field into the sand and sit silently watching and listening to the waves rolling softly up onto the sand and pulling back again?  Did it matter that they would never share these moments together again, or did it only matter that they had shared those moments?  Once they had reached their spot, Gramps would take off his coat and spread it to n the ground and offer her a sandwich from the worn paper bag that he used over and over again, the one that she was clinging to today.  Then he told her that Jesus said he was the living water and that everyone who came to him would never be thirsty.  Leaning forwards, Gramps would rest his arms across his knees and talk about his life; about his wife and their life together, or about his life as a young boy with his mother, father and little brother.

Sometimes Gramps eyes would fill to the brim with tears either out of joy or sadness, depending on the story and once in a while a little would spill onto his cheek and roll off his chin.  Gramm had died before Addie was even four years old.  Seeing Gramps cry when he talked about her made Addie sad too.  She would tenderly reach up with her napkin to wipe his tears away.  Then he would put his arm around her, stroke her hair and tuck it behind her ear while he said:  “It’s your turn to talk now, little one.”

“Me, Gramps?  Why?  What do I have to talk about?” And he would answer; “Oh, about anything little one, anything at all, it doesn’t matter.”  so Addie would talk; about school, her friends, the sky or clouds, whatever came to mind that day.  Somewhere along the line Gramps would suddenly stop her and ask, “What does that word mean, Addie:”  he had been a teacher and somehow he could never shake that part of him away and so through word play he used his skill on her.  She didn’t mind, because she wanted to be a teacher like him.  One who could find hidden meanings in the stories and hidden stories in the lives of people he knew and even those he had just met.  Yes, she wanted to be a wise and gentle teacher like him.  one who could find hidden meanings in the stories and hidden stories in the lives of people he knew and even those he had just met.  yes, she wanted to be a wise and gentle teacher like he was.  Gramps would catch her attention and teach her to think carefully about each meaning of a word so she could find the deeper meaning and understand better the lives of the people who were talking.  He taught her to think about the words in the stories that she read as well.  Together they would take each syllable of a word and define it, then put the word back together again, chewing on each meaning until they could either digest it or throw it out as meaningless.

“Meaningless,” she remembered snatching that word up fast one day and taking it apart:  Mean . . . evil, cruel; – ing . . . a suffix added on to show that an act is in progress.   Mean-ing. . . in the process of being evil or cruel; – less . . . minus, subtract, smaller, without.  mean-in-less, she put the syllables back together slowly, carefully rolling each syllable from her tongue then blurted them out, “Meaningless; the act of being less cruel, without evil.”

Her definition had meaning, it was logical; it made sense to her.  But Gramps would slowly shake his head no, and then smile.  She would look up and smile with every muscle in her face nodding yes.  His smile would grow large, a big, beautiful smile with his yellow teeth that had spaces in between.  She could see him, feel, and even smell him sitting next to her.  His old faded bib overalls just hanging on him, white creases bleached in from wear.  His silver white hair was uncombed and all fluffy; she had always thought it looked like a dandelion wisp.  Oh, how she missed Gramps, even while in the depths of her soul she felt his presence.  Addie could hear his voice now, gently mocking her interpretation of the word meaningless.

“Yes, Addie,” he replied, as his side to side nod changed directions and then stopped.  “Little one, it could be so, but listen to how people use this word: Meaningless – without meaning or of no significance, not ‘without cruelty.’ Then cocking his head to one side and pulling on his beard he would add: “Although the way you go about it does make sense and could be logical.”

“Good!  Then that’s what the definition of meaningless is, Gramps!  The act of being less cruel, without evil!”

“Ah, but Addie, my little one, it’s not quite that simple.  You can’t just change the meaning like that.  If you use the word like that, no one will understand.  What you say would make no sense, it would become meaningless.”

“So then, what I said wouldn’t be cruel.  what’s wrong with that Gramps?”  he would touch his head, sigh deeply then rub his chin and pulling on his beard he would look sideways at her, out of the corner of his eye.

“Do it Gramps!  Take it apart and put it back together!”  She liked this one because it had been so difficult for him the first time she came up with her new definition.  He stuttered and stammered:  “Meaningless . . . without meaning.  mean-ing . . the process of having or being mean . . . I mean . . . you know. . . something has meaning. . . uh. . . let’s see here.  He stammered and hemmed and hawed.  “C’mon Gramps!”  Addie would chide him, poking her elbow into his side.  “Well now, little one, give Gramps some time!  This word is pretty tough.  How ’bout we say I accept your definition until next time, ok?  Then I might be able to explain it to you better.”

But Gramps would always forget to do his homework on that word meaningless and Addie would tease him about it once in awhile.  She recalled their last full conversation about the word meaningless:  “Gramps, we were talking today in school and well, one of the kids said that life was meaningless.  I know Gramps, that you don’t like playing with this word anymore, but wouldn’t it be good Gramps? I mean, if it meant that life was without cruelty instead of without meaning?  Then it would be a good thing to say about life, wouldn’t it Gramps?  Then a meaningless life could be a good thing.  Gramps just looked at her that day and said quietly, “Addie, a meaningless life is an impossible thing.” That’s how their word game ended that day, simply, abruptly, quietly.

That was several many years ago.  then one day, not too long ago, when Gramps was talking about water and life, he was much older now, he gave in saying, “I’ve been thinking about that word Addie, meaningless, and yes Addie, it could be nice if life was without cruelty.”  She and Gramps had taken this walk for years, lately he had been getting more and more tired, each time puffing a little harder.  She could hear him breathing deeply now with the waves as they rolled in and back out again.  It was almost as if they were taking her own breath away in her hour of grief.  Now she understood what he meant when he said the water had power to carry a life away.  she felt as if hers was drifting away with his as her grief seemed to hit her, wave after wave after wave.

Fighting that feeling, Addie breathed in and sat up abruptly.  Looking at the edge of the beach with the waves rolling in and out she thought about what she would say about Gramps’ life; was it meaningless?  According to her own definition it was, because his life was without evil.  He was always gentle, never a cruel word, thought or action towards anyone.  But, if others said his life was meaningless they would be ever so wrong, because Gramps’  life was full of meaning and purpose and song.  He had lived and loved passionately and compassionately, taking care of his parents into their old age, and adopting his brothers son when his life was lost in a war somewhere over there, beyond the waves of water that they had watched together rolling back and forth upon the shore.

She wished Gramps could be here, sitting close beside her, that they could be playing word games again.  Tonight she would tell Gramps that he was right.  Life could never be meaningless, because it mattered.  Everyone’s life meant something to someone.  His mattered so much to her and the rest of the family.  She missed him so terribly much tonight, and so did they.  Thinking about their black mourning suits and the people in them, Addie sat still, staring through blurry eyes, filled to the brim, at the dappled deep blue canvas and whispered quietly, “Does it matter Gramps? Does it matter that none of us are together?  That you are gone, they’re at home and I’m here, all alone, thinking about you and me and them?

Closing her eyes Addie slowly let herself back down into the sandy grass on the dunes and rested her head on the crumpled brown paper bag.  all those years they played with the word meaningless.  Most other words they had agreed upon or threw away, this one, she never let go of even though Gramps had given in to her definition.  Tonight she had to bring the word game to an end, to finish it.  She decided she could never throw out her own definition because it would be like throwing out the life of a man whose life was full of meaning and without evil.

“Addie . . . Addie . . . ” she heard he name whispered a familiar hand was ever so gently touching her shoulder, rolling it back and forth.  She felt as if she were rolling on a wave. . . “Addie!  Addie!  Wake up honey!  The sun is almost up and you’ve been out here a long time, sweetheart.”

Michael was sitting next to her, knees up, one arm resting across them and the other resting on her shoulder.  She blinked away the sleep as her lips drew into a small smile.  Michael looked deeply into her clear ocean blue eyes, touching her soul, mind and heart.  No need for words, he knew her inside and out. She leaned up and he reached over, pulling her to him and letting her rest her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating with her breathing and she felt like living again, knowing her life was still full of meaning and yet meaningless all at the same time.

They sat together on the shore watching the sun rise over the waves and they quieted down in the early morning hours.  The clouds were all fluffy and white, like dandelion puffs drifting away with the gentle breeze that whispered through the air.  As the sun warmed the sand they stood up together and turning their backs against the shore, they walked hand in hand through the tall grass in the field towards the woods.  Half way across the field, Addie took off running, then stopped and threw her arms out and began twirling about.  Tilting her head towards the sky, she began to sing again at the top of her lungs.  After her performance, she bowed carefully with on arm stretched toward the sky and the other touching the earth.  When she rose she looked at her husband.  he was beaming a smile that she returned, they began laughing when suddenly he threw his arms open n towards Addie.  She kicked off her shoes and reaching forward ran towards Michael.  Meeting half way through the open field, he lifted her up and held her close while they twirled around once, twice, thrice, before he gently set her down.  She looked up and felt his warm embrace then rested her head on his chest.

 

Michael and Addie walked together hand in hand through the field, into the woods to the clearing where she saw the house that Gramps had lived in and she knew more now than ever before that everything mattered in life, all things and all memories, great or small, all mattered.  But what matters most of all was that she knew Gramps had loved her and she had loved him.  Yes, it mattered what she and Gramps had talked about, because those talks had given their relationship great meaning.  When they walked through the door, the smells of fresh coffee brewing and waffles were wafting through the air.  The black mourning suits and dresses were put away and new colors of life were on everyone seated at the table. Joining hands and hearts and voices the whole family said grace together, giving thanks for Gramps, whose life they all agreed, had mattered to each and every one in a very special way.