Nothing Really Lasts Forever

“Nothing really lasts forever, does it?” Sarah asked as we packed our grandfather’s remaining possessions into too few boxes to hold a whole life.

“We’ll remember him as long as we can, and we will tell our children of his heroic life. It may not last forever but maybe for a while longer.” I said, finding a small bag tucked in the bottom of his pajama drawer. “I wonder what this is?”

Pouring it out into my hand, small grain like seeds settled into the creases of my palm. “Looks like some seeds, but who knows how long they’ve been in there. They probably aren’t even viable anymore.” I scooped them back into the small drawstring bag as Sarah grabbed the last box from the bed.

Grandpa Jonas had been a military hero and traveled the world. When our parents died, he’d been the one to care for us until we were old enough to care for him. Then after that, he went into a veteran’s home and we went our separate ways. It seems like no matter the ties that bind, people have a way of growing apart.

“Jillian?” Sarah called as I gave the room one more glance over and headed toward the nurse’s desk to turn in his key.

“Yeah?” I answered, not really paying much attention. My mind was still racing at how fast he had passed. The nurses had only called us three days ago, but before we could make it, he was gone.

Sarah waited until I caught up with her to finish her question, “Do you think he remembered us during his last few days? Do you think he missed us? We were his only remaining family.” Her tears sparkled in the waning light of day and slid silently down her cheeks.

“I hope so,” I reached out and pulled my twin in for a hug. “I like to think we were on his mind as much as he was on ours. But I wish we would have made more time to visit him. Middle of nowhere California isn’t a fun place to visit but it’s where he was.” I took the box and slid it into the back of the SUV with the rest of his meager belongings and we began our trek home.

Twelve years ago, he asked us to bring him here with his health slowly declining. “I don’t want to be a burden to you two ladies. You’ve cared for me long enough and now it’s time you go out in the world and figure out where you belong. Let me live with people who lived similar experiences as I did, I promise, it won’t be so bad.” Right up to the day we checked him in, he was smiles and jokes, but he’d been right. In the following years, Sarah had become a Nurse Practitioner and worked insane hours, caring for anyone in needs, no questions asked.

I became a teacher, sharing stories and knowledge with the younger generation and then finally completing my Master’s and become a Professor at a local college. Neither of our careers gave us much time to visit Grandpa, but his influence helped us become who we now were.

Once we made it back to the rental house, we sat in the car a few minutes with the engine running and AC blowing hard; even in the diminishing sunlight, the desert heat still lingered. “Do you want to just drive back to LA tonight and find a place?” I asked, not turning to look at my sister.

“It might be best. I know my flight is sometime tomorrow afternoon to get back to Orlando. Isn’t yours tomorrow evening as well?” Her voice was hollow as though she’d been rung dry. Perhaps we both had.

“Yeah, I’ll message our host and let them know we are going to go ahead and check-out. We can find some place overnight once we get over there.

The drive would give us time to process whatever we needed to process; we were twins, but we still operated differently. Sarah was more emotional and had the tendency to be mor teary and reminiscent. I, on the other hand, was more logical and analytical, usually working through things internally instead of where all could see. Maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism but that’s where my therapist would come in.

As we drove, my mind kept returning to the small drawstring bag and seeds held within. “Why do you think he kept the seeds?” I asked aloud, not really expecting Sarah to answer.

True to my expectation, she was sound asleep in the seat beside me. The car always did lull her to sleep, while I would always be wide awake with our dad when we would go on family vacations.

I couldn’t think of any reason for him to have them, or where he would have gotten them in the middle of a desert other than a plant shot or big box hardware store, but it didn’t explain why he would have them in a small, worn, leather bag. To my knowledge he’d never really cared too much for plants, perhaps some ivy that was low maintenance but that’s about it. It was a mystery that sat with me through the rest of the drive and on into the next day as we prepared to leave the hotel and head for the airport.

“Do you want to ship any of Grandpa’s things with you?” I asked my sister. There were only 3 boxes and I was hoping I didn’t have to pay to check them all.

“I’ll take a few things, but my studio can’t hold a lot. Maybe just a few military medals or a uniform if you don’t mind.” I nodded and she flipped open a box top to try and locate the few things she wanted.

Hours and days passed once I made it home to Seattle. I settled back into my routine, keeping in touch with my sister on the other side of the country and working on curriculum for the coming year. But I kept having dreams about my grandfather, walking me through a field of flowers and telling me everything was going to be okay.

I brushed it off as simply missing him and as my mind’s way of dealing with the loss; I knew everything would be okay and I knew he was in a better place. I just missed him. I promised myself my next day off, I would go through his things and figure out what could be donated and what I really wanted to keep, but time slipped away, and fall fell away to winter, and winter begat spring. For Seattle, it was the normal cold and wet, but my dreams were stronger than before.

I had never been good with plants and the few I’d tried withered and died before I could even figure out what I was doing wrong, but something told me to plant some of the seeds I’d found. Maybe it was the dreams of fiery sunsets and Grandpa’s warm smile. So, on a cold, rainy day in early April, I poured a quarter of the seeds into a pot I’d had from a previously deceased plant and sat the plant in the window where I thought it would find the best sun.

If I’d known what seeds they were, I could have searched the internet for what I was supposed to do, but I was going at the process blindly. I set a reminder on my phone to check if it needed water and over a few weeks fell into the routine of tending to the small sprouts which started popping up in the soil. The day I first noticed the sprouts, I felt Grandpa was still with me and sent a picture to my sister to let her know the seeds still held some vitality.

Within a few weeks, the sprouts became stems, and the stems gave way to buds. Finally, in late May, the first blooms began to spread their petals. The fiery golden glow of the marigold basked in the sun of my apartment window. For a moment, I let the tears fall silently down my cheek and I brushed them away with the palm of my hand. Grandpa was still here, but this time, he’d brought my grandma Mary with him too.

They only lasted through the summer and fall, and I would have to replant more seeds the coming year, but my grandparents had spent the season with me again. Sadly, nothing really lasts forever, but I will cherish the visit.