May 13, 2010

I woke up on the morning of May 13 with a feeling the world had shifted. I checked my e-mail with a heavy heart to find my Granddad died around 8:20 a.m. in a hospice bed in Jacksonville, Fla. Through a broken Internet connection and streaming tears, I called my dad.

If you know my father you will understand how our hearts are connected. You’ll also understand that while he has a broken heart, he would never let mine hurt for a second. The first thing he said was “Hey baby girl, I was just lying in the backyard listening to Black Betty.” I instantly felt better. We talked about life and death for a while and shared stories and little inside jokes about my Granddad. My Dad, true to form, subtly guided the conversation in a direction that made me feel comfortable with my physical distance from family as he knew that’s what I needed before hanging up.

When I got off the phone, I was determined to do something great, to see something great, to experience something great on this terrible day. I wanted to find something that made my absence from my family seem a little less painful. I looked through a book on Buenos Aires but nothing seemed worthy of my attention. I settled on the Plaza de Mayo – named after the date Buenos Aires politically separated from Spain and occupied by Casa Rosada, where Eva Peron preached from the balcony to impassioned Argentines. I walked peacefully along historic buildings that lined the plaza and thought of my Granddad.

My Granddad didn’t believe in life after death, which is something I often wonder about myself. As I stared at the architecture reflecting distinct times in history, I realized it’s not just about where you’re going after you die. It’s where you were while you were alive. My Grandfather may not have designed a building that generations to come will admire, but he created generations to come! He created life…and a lot of it. Wherever he is, he created life after his death. I am here because of him. My children will be here because of him.

Then as I turned down Calle Florida (Florida Street – seems only appropriate that I found myself there), I realized I didn’t need to see something great on this particular day, because I am living something great! And for that I am eternally grateful.

William George Holland / Granddaddy / 1923-2010