March 21, 2012

Today while I was running I noticed through this foggy morning that trees had started to flower in my neighborhood. I think it must have just happened, coating branches in lacy blossoms–it looks hopeful, and seems appropriate for how many things are changing, growing, and emerging right now.

When the weather turns warm in New York, the flip from gray and cold and into spring, the city explodes, people swarm out from wherever they were bunkered for the winter and stretch pale limbs to the sun. It’s great. You start unintentionally running into people you know just because you’re all outside. This is especially true in this time, before the sweat and stick of full-on summer take over. I’m almost done with school, on the far side of my last spring break (maybe ever), and the end is in sight. This contained phase of my life is moving very quickly to a point of closure and it’s onto the next thing, the next phase. Our lease runs out on our apartment at the end of May, that’s another move to make.

Our family is going through a cycle right now, too. My grandfather passed away on Friday. He was 93-years-old and lived a long, extraordinarily lucky life, a life saved by mere inches, many times, as my cousin put it at the funeral. He was born in 1919, and saw the world change in ways that I can’t even imagine. I remember back as far as cassette and VHS tapes, he could remember his first radio. I’ll write more about his story soon, he wrote his own memoir and it feels important to me to keep telling his story, especially his escape from Germany in 1939 that allowed my family to exist. My brother and sister-in-law brought my three-month-old niece to the funeral, and it completely changed the tone of the day and maybe even the death. It reminded people that there’s hope and happiness. There’s a direct line from everything that we want to keep alive from my grandfather (and my grandfather and grandmother who passed away in 2008) that will stretch through to our children. I don’t know, I feel like I’m treading in cliche, but it’s powerful to have a sweet, perfect baby to lighten a funeral. It’ll all carry on if we want it to.


One Response to “Blossoming”

  1. editeft said

    Brooke, we are very sorry about your Grandpa, send best regards to the family. Love

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