Versions

My parents’ magic store sold and rented costumes—plus makeup, masks, and all the Halloween décor you could imagine. October was so busy that they extended hours and hired extra staff. My sisters and I spent most of the month at our grandparents’ houses.

During that time, I got to know my grandparents well. I heard lots of stories and saw them in their element. They were all incredibly kind and shared their wisdom with me. My mom’s dad, Grandpa Max, would take me on errands. Often, we visited the properties he owned. He was a generous person and had a very playful side. He was impish. He would help anyone who ever needed help. His rascal nature would joke, tease, or share a funny story.

Later in life, three of my four grandparents eventually lived with us. By this point, Grandpa Max had developed some health issues. One had an impact to his mental sharpness. He was still funny, but increasingly, he was not in on what made the situation humorous. Life caught up, and he was forced to slow down. He wasn’t wired to slow down, but his body didn’t give him a choice. He was especially unhappy to lose access to his vehicle. One way he tried to remedy it was by calling a cab to get a ride to the dealership to buy another one.

During this period, I struggled to have a relationship with the new version of him. He looked the same, usually sounded the same, but he was different. It wasn't easy to accept he was different from who I’d grown up with.

Watching him shift into a different version made me realize how I’ve shifted over time. Sometimes by choice, sometimes because life insisted. When I was in elementary school, I was very different than middle school. I changed again in high school, then college, then with each job and major life change. I am changing again as my oldest has left for his freshman year of college.

When someone’s behavior disappoints me, it’s tempting to think, People never change. But I have changed. I’ve seen others change. My disappointment is often that they’re not changing in the way—or at the pace—I want. Their lives, experiences, and health are shaping them, just as mine shapes me. My challenge is to connect with who they are right now—not the version I remember, and not the version I wish for. People can and do change, but I can’t expect or force it. If I don’t make space for the present version of someone, I can’t have a real connection at all.

Do I accept the now version of me? Will I embrace who you are right now? Can I release my version of them so they can grow into their own?

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