Last week, I experienced an almost spiritual moment of gratitude. I was at a concert, a Tool concert to be specific. As I stood in the 12th row, my hair literally blowing from the sound waves (maybe I should have worn earplugs?), I was overtaken by sadness when I thought about my late grandma.
Yes, my grandma. At a Tool show. I know it’s strange, but stay with me here.
I realized how much she would have loved it, and how I wish I had taken her to a rock concert before she passed away in 2003. I imagined her throaty giggle as the sound waves vibrated in her chest. Her eyes full of excitement from the drummer’s insane solo as it ricochets around the arena. I could easily imagine this experience moving her to tears.
My grandma was deaf. She had scarlet fever as an infant and it stole her hearing. She grew up in the WWII era, and was sent to a deaf school. Her parents and siblings did not learn sign language. As was common at that time, deafness was associated with a lack of intelligence, and deaf folks were relegated to low-wage jobs and sub-standard education. She grew up, married a deaf man, and they had four hearing children. They refused to teach any of the children sign language for fear the kids would have the same stigma attached to them.
Grandma Beverly
My mother was one of those four, and she and I learned to sign when I was eight. Grandma gave me a Sesame Street signing book, and she was so thrilled when I was able to tell her what I was learning about in school. I’d show her my favorite signs over and over, like dream, turtle, and grandma, but she never tired of it. Although I was (and still am) a horrible speller, she pretended to understand what I finger-spelled to her. She had the most amazing laugh, because it was complete abandon every time. Guttural, loud, and full of life. She didn’t know about “indoor voices”. Just recalling the sound of it makes me laugh thirteen years after I heard it last.
My favorite memory of her is when I took her to a doctor appointment, and blasted Snoop Dogg from the stereo as we drove. I look over, and there is my grandma, bobbing her head and tapping her foot to the bass vibration in the car. She asked me what kind of music it was and when I told her, I was rewarded with her best laugh ever.
Not long before she passed, she got new hearing aides. We gathered at my mom’s house to fill out and send my wedding invitations. My mom messed up on one of the envelopes, so she crumpled it up in a ball and tossed it aside. Grandma’s eyes got huge!
“What was that noise?” She signed.
“It was the envelope,” I told her and replicated the crumple action.
“Paper makes noise?!?” She asked, totally astounded. She’d heard the crumple sound for the first time.
Imagine that. Imagine not knowing that virtually everything makes some sort of noise. Imagine how wondrous each sound would be as you discovered it for the first time at the age of 63. Then she heard my mother’s (her daughter’s) laugh for the first time and she cried.
That’s why I know she would have loved the Tool show. She’d have loved the vibration of the music, the feeling of a sold out crowd united by what they are hearing. She didn’t get to experience music, or her childrens’ laughter, or the sound of thunder or ocean waves.
Everyone was jealous of our seats
So when I was at the Tool show, being bombarded with amazing guitar riffs, the gratitude hit me. We are so lucky. Fortunate. Blessed. I try really hard not to take experiences for granted. In my opinion, they are the most important thing. Possessions are only things that lose their shine and usefulness over time, but experiences teach you, they broaden you, and they make you more interesting. Plus, they don’t go out of style and they can’t break like things do.
Me and the Mr. #twelfthrow
Have some experiences that push you and scare you a little. Do the things you have passion for. Do ALL the things. Don’t squander the chance to enjoy every moment of life. It’s the simplest experiences that can give us the most happiness. Don’t forget to be present.
That time I wrastled a gator.
What are your favorite adventures? What’s on your bucket list? How do you savor you life? Let’s share!
Jennifer, My name is Jean and I usually follow Meredith on ScootADoot since I know and love her. I am not sure why I read your blog this morning……maybe because you mentioned gratitude. Your beautiful memories of your Grandma made me think of my Mom who I lost 28 years ago. When you spoke of how you would have loved to taken her to a concert, it brought back one of my favorite memories of my Mom. She was watching MTV and bouncing her great granddaughter Jessica Lynn not quite a year old on her knee. The song “Forever Young” was playing and although she was dying with cancer, she looked so alive and so happy I could almost forget that in just a few months she would be leaving us. Thanks for the memory!
What a beautiful memory of your mother, Jean, thank you for sharing it with me. Those are the moments that make life so special and precious. I’m glad my post this morning could help bring that image to life for you again. Thank you for reading my post today (it’s hard not to love Meredith to pieces). Blessings to you.
I love this so much. That feeling that comes along with a concert experience is truly like no other and the fact that we get to experience things like that, that overwhelming sense of togetherness and oneness is something that doesn’t come around all the time but when it does? WHEW. It can take your breath away!
My next great adventure is coming up this weekend with a series of good (I hope!) times with friends and running my next race. And while some might consider that mundane, I can’t wait to be surrounded by good people, meet some new friends, and enjoy every moment.
A weekend with friends doing something you love (racing, not the actual running) are the opposite of mundane! Those relationships give us meaning and companionship, not to mention, you’re the perfect race partner. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.
Those moments of social unity are so rare and brief, we need to try to create them more often. <3