It was Thursday. Thursday is the day I take Grandpa Bill for lunch. It has to be Thursday because Wednesday he has bridge club, another family member whisks him to lunch on Fridays, and there are other engagements I can't always keep track of. So, I covet Thursday. It is a beautiful thing to find a man near ninety with such a full dance card. It is never a question as to where we go to lunch. Pho. Every time, Pho. When he moved to Seattle ten years ago at eighty years old, he was first introduced to the Vietnamese noodle soup. It became a part of his and my grandmothers weekly routine. Three times a week they would go for a brief walk to stretch their legs and head for the noodle soup. Everyone at the noodle shop came to know them. They would arrive, and their order would be on the table before they could even take a seat.
A few weeks ago I was taken back by the shops extra hospitality as we pulled up. One of the staff of the Pho came out and opened the doors for him as we came in. He ushered us to our seats, and made sure our settings were already on the table. He looked at Grandpa, and then looked at me and said "He is like the big tree, and I am nothing, I just bow down to him." And, with that he smiled and jaunted back into the kitchen to get our regular orders. Grandpa noted the comment, and beamed in full plumage without a word. I sat struck by the experience as I sucked noodles. I am not sure that they know each others name, I am not sure that they have been able to have a full conversation because of the language barrier, but when they see each other there is a fondness that surpasses idle talk. This man has brought soup to this man three times a week for ten years. This man nods when it's raining, this man smiles when it's sunny. This man waves hello, this man opens the door. It is a closeness of consistency and time. After my grandmother passed away, my grand father still went for Pho, but in time he felt that he needed to move to a different location for more assisted living. It was no longer possible to walk to the Pho. The first day he moved into the new home he asked to leave to go out to lunch for Pho. He wanted to know that at least that of some things might not change.
I am not really sure how to age gracefully, I am not really sure how to help others to age gracefully. But, I know when I see it. Grandpa Bill has aged gracefully. He is a man content with where and who he is. He is content with his past, and content with his present. It is obvious in everything he does. But. for me never more obvious then when I watch him eat a warm bowl of Pho soup served by a friendly knowing face.
A few weeks ago I was taken back by the shops extra hospitality as we pulled up. One of the staff of the Pho came out and opened the doors for him as we came in. He ushered us to our seats, and made sure our settings were already on the table. He looked at Grandpa, and then looked at me and said "He is like the big tree, and I am nothing, I just bow down to him." And, with that he smiled and jaunted back into the kitchen to get our regular orders. Grandpa noted the comment, and beamed in full plumage without a word. I sat struck by the experience as I sucked noodles. I am not sure that they know each others name, I am not sure that they have been able to have a full conversation because of the language barrier, but when they see each other there is a fondness that surpasses idle talk. This man has brought soup to this man three times a week for ten years. This man nods when it's raining, this man smiles when it's sunny. This man waves hello, this man opens the door. It is a closeness of consistency and time. After my grandmother passed away, my grand father still went for Pho, but in time he felt that he needed to move to a different location for more assisted living. It was no longer possible to walk to the Pho. The first day he moved into the new home he asked to leave to go out to lunch for Pho. He wanted to know that at least that of some things might not change.
I am not really sure how to age gracefully, I am not really sure how to help others to age gracefully. But, I know when I see it. Grandpa Bill has aged gracefully. He is a man content with where and who he is. He is content with his past, and content with his present. It is obvious in everything he does. But. for me never more obvious then when I watch him eat a warm bowl of Pho soup served by a friendly knowing face.
