With Caleb's permission, today I'd like to share with you a letter I wrote in 2011 to him while he was full-time taking care of his grandpa, who was on hospice. And for fun, I thought I'd share this photo of Caleb and I, from 2011:
to my love:
Ever since that one time we were eating gelato and ran into my coworker Susan and she asked what you did and you said "not a whole lot right now" I started thinking about what you are doing. And why it is valuable.
That day that we snuggled in the hammock and read The Singer stands out in my mind. I remember coming in and you and your grandpa were eating lunch. (At 3:30, of course.) I felt like I do sometimes when I've had a busy day - I came breezing in carrying the whole weight of my day. During most of the day, I had been an individual. I spent time in my windowless, basement office, taught, chatted with my coworker about various students (she didn't have good things to say). I drove my own car alone halfway across the city and wound up walking through your front door and petting Lola, all of this fresh on my mind.
As I sat down with you both at the kitchen table, I felt the pace of the world slow down in a way I don't usually experience. I realized that all of my rushing was simply what the day had required of me, not who I am. I felt like I had a glimpse into your world. You sit with an old man and slowly eat lunch at 3:30 while most of the world is rushing around outside the four walls of your house. While some people are career planning and stressing and making phone calls and taking life at a frenetic pace, you are watching the History Channel with your grandpa. The little things you do every single day like getting breakfast and making sure he is not too cold or has the remote and helping him use the bathroom or slowly move from his wheelchair to the table may seem like little things; but I think they are shaping you in more ways than you realize. I think they are shaping me in more ways than I realize, simply from watching you interact with him.
That day we went four-leaf clover hunting and your grandpa came home from the nursing home, I remember watching you go to him and cut off his hospital bracelet. I had never seen you be that caring and gentle before. It was beautiful.
There are oh-so-many things I love about you, Caleb, but one of them is definitely that you are taking care of your grandpa. I'm sure it doesn't always feel beautiful or like you are being shaped. Even if it feels boring or like nothing, I think that's how growth is. And I want you to know that I think you are doing one of the most valuable, selfless jobs you could be doing. So thanks.
to my love:
Ever since that one time we were eating gelato and ran into my coworker Susan and she asked what you did and you said "not a whole lot right now" I started thinking about what you are doing. And why it is valuable.
That day that we snuggled in the hammock and read The Singer stands out in my mind. I remember coming in and you and your grandpa were eating lunch. (At 3:30, of course.) I felt like I do sometimes when I've had a busy day - I came breezing in carrying the whole weight of my day. During most of the day, I had been an individual. I spent time in my windowless, basement office, taught, chatted with my coworker about various students (she didn't have good things to say). I drove my own car alone halfway across the city and wound up walking through your front door and petting Lola, all of this fresh on my mind.
As I sat down with you both at the kitchen table, I felt the pace of the world slow down in a way I don't usually experience. I realized that all of my rushing was simply what the day had required of me, not who I am. I felt like I had a glimpse into your world. You sit with an old man and slowly eat lunch at 3:30 while most of the world is rushing around outside the four walls of your house. While some people are career planning and stressing and making phone calls and taking life at a frenetic pace, you are watching the History Channel with your grandpa. The little things you do every single day like getting breakfast and making sure he is not too cold or has the remote and helping him use the bathroom or slowly move from his wheelchair to the table may seem like little things; but I think they are shaping you in more ways than you realize. I think they are shaping me in more ways than I realize, simply from watching you interact with him.
That day we went four-leaf clover hunting and your grandpa came home from the nursing home, I remember watching you go to him and cut off his hospital bracelet. I had never seen you be that caring and gentle before. It was beautiful.
There are oh-so-many things I love about you, Caleb, but one of them is definitely that you are taking care of your grandpa. I'm sure it doesn't always feel beautiful or like you are being shaped. Even if it feels boring or like nothing, I think that's how growth is. And I want you to know that I think you are doing one of the most valuable, selfless jobs you could be doing. So thanks.
This is one of the most beautiful and true love letters I've ever read :)
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