Just Keep Swimming

Three months ago my grandma died.

For weeks after her death, she showed up in my dreams but never fully. I would sense her presence or walk past her while she was sleeping on her side or catch the back of her head as she walked away. One afternoon, I even heard her bickering with my grandpa, but I never saw her face. Until a few nights ago.

We were swimming together at her cottage, and I was a child again, probably around eleven years old, the same age as my youngest daughter. She was young too, maybe in her early fifties, gliding toward me through the water, one purposeful stroke at a time. Her face was radiant in the hot July sun, and she smiled with the quiet contentment of someone completely at peace.

Her smile made me remember something. 

A few years ago, I gave her one of those Grandmother, Tell Me Your Story journals for Christmas. I don’t think she was particularly excited about it because she was never a big fan of school, well, that’s not entirely true. She loved the social aspect but not so much the educational component. I assume she thought this gift probably felt like homework. After she died, the journal was given back to me.  I wasn’t surprised to see that most of it had remained empty, but she had answered, and even elaborated on a few of the questions.  As I gingerly turned the pages, one question stopped me – 

What do you worry about?

Her answer?

Nothing.

One –

Word.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t wishful thinking or bravado on her part. It was simply true. She really didn’t worry. She moved through life with a lightness that has always amazed me. She laughed easily, loved deeply, and rarely clung to what she couldn’t control. In many ways, she lived exactly opposite of her oldest granddaughter.

Me.

For years, my motto has been “Just keep livin,” my interpretation of Dory’s famous “Just keep swimming” from Finding Nemo. I adopted it while watching the movie with my four young children as my late husband lay dying in the next room. It became a daily reminder to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and for a long time, I was pretty good at it. But the last few years have brought their share of disappointment, grief, and struggle, and if I’m honest, somewhere along the way I’ve lost a bit of my sparkle for life.

As the dream progressed, she kept swimming closer, and with every stroke, her face began to change. It gained a few more wrinkles, a few more age spots, and a little more wisdom until finally she reached me, no longer the radiant fifty-year-old anymore, but the ninety-year-old woman I had just said goodbye to. Her beautiful, faded eyes looked deeply into mine, a wrinkled face weathered by a life fully lived, and then I woke up.

I’ve been pondering whether the dream wasn’t really about seeing my grandma again, but maybe instead, it was about finally seeing who she had been all along. Or maybe it was a gentle reminder from her to me, her almost fifty-year-old granddaughter, that life doesn’t have to be carried with clenched fists. Maybe it was an invitation to loosen my grip on the worries that weigh me down, to carry joy more lightly, and to live with open hands and an open heart.

Perhaps it was simply her way of reminding me to just keep swimming and to…

Just keep livin. 

(photo is her at 18 years old, not worrying 😉