When you step onto the stage of life you realize quickly that you have stepped onto a stage that is somewhat crowded with other actors. Many of these other actors have been on the stage for a very long time. Parents, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, etc. It is quickly apparent that it is not all about you. Also as apparent is that there are many other stories besides your own. Historic, beautiful, epic stories that have always been, and always will be (or so it seems).

As a child I grew up playing in open fields and going from house to house among my Great-Grand Parents, Grand Parents and Great Aunts and Uncles. My Great Grandfather had purchased a significant amount of land in Norther California. He gave an acres of land to each of his children and they settled down, all living next door to one another with my Great Grand parents close enough to oversee it all. Family mattered for these Russian immigrants and everyone was very close. My Grandfather was a carpenter, a cabinet maker, a craftsman. But he left that fulfilling, yet seasonal, work to take a job at the local elementary school as a janitor so that he could more consistently provide for his family. Amid much teasing and ridicule from his cabinet making friends, every Friday when he received his pay check he would go down to the brickyard, buy a few bricks and drop them off at the empty lot that his Father-in-law had given to him. Eventually there were enough bricks to build a one room house for his wife and two small children. Years passed and there were enough bricks to add a bedroom, and then a kitchen, followed by a second bedroom and a bathroom, then a patio with an arbor to hang the grape vines. Eventually enough for a guest house behind the main house and a workshop near the back of the property alongside his fertile garden which provided the family with much needed vegetables, fruit and his often enjoyed chewing tobacco.

By the time I showed up on the scene in the mid-sixties life had settled into a consistent and predictable pattern. Small town life was the norm here and things in that town had remained pretty much unchanged since my Dad was a kid. As I grew up, I can recall the summers, in the heat of the day traveling from house to house, from glass of ice tea to bowl of ice cream, from Grand parent to Uncle, from smile to laughter, and from hug to hug.

But then it happened. And suddenly the world that I thought was so stable was shaken.  One Uncle passed away. Another developed Alzheimer’s, forcing a move to be closer to their children, and then my Grandfather passed away. The last major family event he was able to attend was our wedding. It fills my heart to this day to know that, riddled with cancer, he made the trip from Northern California to the Central Coast to give us simple, yet profound marital advice: “Be good to each other”. Soon my Grandmother had moved to a normal house, in a typical neighborhood. Not long after her move, some squatters settled into the abandoned house that my Grandfather had built and they accidentally burned it to the ground. The house that contained so many of my childhood memories now was nothing more than ash and a cement slab.

Heavier than the loss of much loved family members was the loss of a sense of stability. Things that had always been (at least in my world) were no more. As a twenty something I was not prepared for the emotional earthquake that rocked my sense of permanence. Suddenly not much seemed enduring. I felt alone, uncertain and adrift. No longer sure of that which I believed to be absolute.

The loss of a child, the news of a terminal illness, the unfaithfulness of a spouse, the loss of a job resulting in financial devastation, the list goes on. Life events while “typical” when viewed from afar, can be devastating when you are in the midst of the storm yourself. It quickly becomes obvious that the things you thought were “certain” and permanent are quite perishable. Time to reflect on what foundation you are building your life upon? Be sure that when you anchor your life to something that it is solid as a rock.

After the death of my Grandfather my Grandmother went on to live a full life for many years. Although her loss was great her life did not cease when her husband passed. She did not define her life based and the existence of a country house. She did not define her life based on the amount of money she had or how healthy she was. She took each day as it came and remained positive to the end.