65 Cents
Two quarters, a dime, and a nickel. For the last year, I have carried this amount of change in my pocket. Every day.
I have carried on this little practice from my grandfather, Richard Williams, who passed away on April 17, 2018. It actually wasn’t until his funeral that I even knew that he did this. And still to this day, I have no idea why it was exactly two quarters, a dime, and a nickel. Why these four coins? Why not all the change from his nightstand? Would he use this change when he made purchases? What happened when he didn’t have that exact change?
All these questions and I cannot ask him because he is no longer here. All these questions that I never asked when he was alive. As with all families, relationships can be strained and distant and my relationship with my grandfather was no different. As I sat at his funeral a year ago and heard some of the stories, I realized that I had missed out on so much of his life and had not shared so much of my own life. This was no one’s fault but was just the way that our lives had happened.
I grew up in Denver while he lived in Robinson, Illinois with my grandmother. My parents had divorced when I was a toddler and there would be a few years between short visits either here in Colorado or in Robinson, Illinois. I have fond memories of visiting my grandparents and playing cards, riding the riding lawn mower and feeding the birds and squirrels but little else. I remember a birthday celebration when I was young at Gunther Toody’s but other than that, there were very few times we saw each other (or at least that I remember) when I was a child.
Whether it was the distance or the lack of effort on my part, our relationship never had the opportunity to flourish. As I grew older and began having my own kids, I knew that it was important for them to know their great grandparents. How many people can say that they had a relationship with their great-grandparents? Very few. I wanted to take advantage of this and give my kids some memories they could hang on.
Luckily, two years ago, we took a road trip across the country and we stopped in Robinson for a four day trip during the 4th of July. While there, my son got to ride the riding mower (it was off) and both kids got to feed the birds and squirrels. Watching my kids partake in these activities took me back to my own childhood doing the same thing. And I am so grateful for the time that we spent there in 2017.
Little did we know that my grandfather would get sick and pass away less than a year later. This trip allowed us the time to connect in a meaningful way that my kids still remember to this day. This four day trip doesn’t define who my grandfather was but imprints a lasting memory that I will have for the rest of my life.
As I sat at the funeral and heard about the 65 cents, I knew that this was a way that I could “carry on his memory with me.” Each and every day, before I leave for the day, I grab those two quarters, a dime, and a nickel and put them in my pocket.
This small act reminds me that I have many ancestors before me who helped shape the world that I get to live in each day. It also reminds me that I need to do a better job of finding out the stories of those around me. Actually, we all need to do a better job of being present and hearing the stories of our loved ones. We don’t know when the next time that we will be with them is.
So while I may not have the true story of the 65 cents, I will continue to carry it each and every day to remember my grandfather, to remember my friend David, to remember my friend’s dad - Steve, and to remember my grandparents, Grace, Alvin, Rhoda, and Daniel. How do you remember those that have touched your life? What is a tradition you carry on without knowing the real reason for it?