Heaven Can Wait.

My great grandma Vicki just turned 100! Isn’t that wonderful? Since the day she arrived off the boat from Italy with her husband some decades ago, she has been spreading fabulousness throughout the larger United States, and she certainly hasn’t slowed down yet!

 

(She’s the one in the middle.)

 

Adorbs!

 

When the fam celebrated Grandma Vicki’s 100^th Birthday with a “Great Centennial Jubilee,” my mum flew out to California to be part of the festivities. In an effort to make conversation while sitting with Grandma Vicki one afternoon, my mom asked, “Grandmother, what do you think of heaven?”, expecting a description of some sort, what she might imagine it to be like.

 

When asked the question, my grandmother turned squarely to my mom and answered, without hesitating,

 

“Heaven can wait. Life is beautiful.”

 

Please excuse me while I go to my room and quietly sob to Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young” on repeat. I’ll be back in 3 hours.

 

Something I have learned from living in one city, working and going to school in another, studying in another country, and spending the summer in yet another country, is that there are crappy people everywhere. Sometimes we’re the crappy people. And crappy people do crappy things. And crappy things can sometimes make life seem pretty crappy itself.

 

But if my 100 year old grandma, who has no doubt seen and experienced much more crap than I have, having lived nearly five times longer, believes that life, that living, is beautiful, then there must be something there.

 

And there is.

 

Life, the human experience, with its ups and downs, its victories and disappointments, is beautiful, and is worth living, and for a long time.

 

 

Just as there are crappy people and crappy things everywhere, there are also beautiful, good people and beautiful things everywhere. And if we don’t make an effort to recognize these people and see the beauty in the world, we’ll waste our lives away, waiting for heaven, waiting for our days to pass so that we can experience something more. I have been through situations before in which the only consolation I could find was that one day after this life has ended, pain and suffering would cease, but I have come to realize that this source of comfort must be taken in smaller doses than one might prefer and be balanced with a healthy love of living. If I don’t, I’ll miss the epic adventure that is being a human, experiencing pain and joy, connecting with people and with life.

 

 

Life is beautiful, and heaven can wait. And I plan on making it do so.

 

Now, back to Mr. Dylan and silent sobbing.

 

Living,

 

Isaac.