Karen

My aunt passed away this week. The last time I talked to her, she was in an ICU recovery room. Her room number was 666, and I was really hoping to give her grief about that. Our conversation was one-sided this time. She was in and out, but I got a few smiles. I wasn’t sure if she was hearing me or not. Until I said she looked like her mom. Her face winced. She’d definitely heard me.

She didn’t want to hear it, but she did look like her mom. They also shared large portions of their personalities. She was sweet and compassionate. When she, or someone in her care, was not being treated well, she’d take control with a fierce focus on correcting it. Even if she didn’t get it fixed, everyone knew exactly where she stood on a topic.

I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. Since she lived nearby, I got to spend a lot of time with her, too. She loved Dr. Pepper more than anyone I know loves anything. She was very involved in caring for her girls and caring for her parents.

Somewhere in my 30s, she gave me an old bucket full of tools. The tools belonged to my great-great-grandfather, Robert Ingram. He was a carpenter. He was born in 1863 and lived until 1963. His life spanned from the Civil War to the Space Age.

Since I am the only grandson on that side of the family, my grandmother really wanted me to have them. She had given them to my aunt and asked her to hold on to them until I was “ready.” I appreciate that Karen paid attention and noticed when I was most ready for that special gift.

When she handed them over, neither of us said much. We acknowledged that a younger me might have done something stupid with them. She had watched long enough to know the difference. So had my grandmother, who held onto them for me before entrusting the job to Karen. Robert used those tools to build. He took loose materials and shaped them into homes.

The tools sat in the bucket for 50 years, waiting for me. I don’t know if I would have considered myself ready, but I appreciate Karen keeping watch until I was. Knowing what is best for ourselves is a tricky thing. I tend to be overly confident and move way too soon. Or I am overly critical, and I move way too late—or worse, not at all.

Can I use my gifts to take care of others? What am I caretaking that is ready for someone else? Do I know you well enough to know what you need and when?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.