The enduring, the good, and the true

No one lives forever.  On the 4th of January, 1985, my parents entered into an agreement as to what they wanted to do with their stuff after they'd passed away.  Tomorrow we will have arrived at the final stages of following through on their request.

My parents stipulated that we kids could keep 1141 Marine Dr. for ten years after they were both gone, and they provided funds toward that goal.  They also stipulated that if, after five years, the majority of us kids voted to sell the house, we could do that.

So, we're doing that.

I think they'd be pleased.

Rob lost both his parents by the time he turned thirty-one.  I lost mine by the age of fifty-two.  Neither of us feel cheated.  Of course, we wished for more time with them.  But what we got in those few years was so full and formidable that we're on our knees in gratitude every day.  Every day we mine those relationships for more nuggets of wisdom and truth.  Nuggets of grace and love.  Of joy.  Those relationships are as real and vital to us now as they ever were, and maybe even more meaningful.  If that's possible.

You see, what endures is what was good and true about those relationships.  And maybe because the people themselves aren't around any more, that I end up exploring my relationships with them even further.  I pour over old photos, writings, emails.  I sift memories of experiences, trips, shared laughs, conversations, quiet.  I sort through sayings, advice, prayers.  I piece together shards of recollections, stories, impressions.  Never sure if I'm getting it exactly right.

There are some archeological digs that never end.  There's just too much to discover.  This is one of those.  I've been given a lifetime of treasure and I haven't even begun to uncover and make sense of it all.  It's everything that persists from a life that we end up being most startled by.  The enduring, the good, and the true in a life are still enduring, good, and true after that life is gone.  That's how you know what your inheritance really is.  It's that which can never be taken from you.  It's that upon which you build your own life.

No one lives forever.  I don't have any doubt that our wonderful daughters will find much to mine when Rob and I have moved on.  We'll try to leave some strategically-placed cairns so they can find their way to the good stuff.  But I have a feeling they know where it is already.