Be intentional.
Take the picture.
Create memories.
Because even when we think we have all the time in the world, one day it will slip away.
Sadly, this is exactly what happened to my grandma and me.
While I was growing up, my dad and his parents had a strained relationship, and they were estranged for about the first five years of my life. Thankfully, they reconciled, and my grandparents and I finally had the opportunity to establish a much-anticipated relationship. Though I was never able to form the same closeness with them as I had with my maternal grandparents, we still made fond memories.
I remember familiarizing myself with my grandmother’s Christmas village collection, old toys she had saved from my dad’s childhood, and a little glass fish that sparkled on a shelf in her kitchen.
Time flew by as it always does, and before I knew it, I was a pre-teen. My grandparents decided to move out of the state to Las Vegas; it was hard to see them go since I had always felt like we were making up for lost time.
It wasn’t long before my grandfather passed away, leaving my grandmother alone in Las Vegas. I saw her a handful of times in her widowed years, but not nearly enough. Thankfully, we made it a point to talk on the phone.
And then one Christmas, my aunts, uncles, cousins, dad, and I decided we would go to Las Vegas to spend the holiday with my grandma. I couldn’t wait to make up for lost time and create beautiful memories with my extended family. It had been eight years since we all had Christmas together.
I’ll never forget that dreaded phone call only three days before take-off. I was driving home from work, and my dad was crying quietly on the other end. My grandmother, who was anxiously awaiting our arrival, had died. She was gone. I remember silently sobbing at a red light, pondering why. My heart was pierced and gutted.
I couldn’t help but feel guilt sweep over me. I was looking forward to this trip more than anything. I planned to be intentional about snapping a picture of just the two of us. I planned to take the time to listen to my grandma and the wisdom she had to share. I planned to hug my grandma tightly and take in her scent. I planned to erase the guilt I felt for not always being the best granddaughter.
And most of all, I planned to be extra thoughtful on this trip because the last time I visited Las Vegas, I didn’t tell my grandma I was in town. I traveled there for my 21st birthday two years before her death, and instead of taking time to see my grandmother, I selfishly kept the trip to myself. I didn’t know that would be my last chance to see my grandma alive. I didn’t know at the time that the choice I made not to visit would end up haunting me for years.
So instead of making beautiful memories with my grandma and extended family for Christmas, we spent the week cleaning out her house, picking out her urn, and going through her countless possessions.
Each family member was given a chance to choose something sentimental to keep. When it was my turn, I chose the same little glass fish I used to stare at in my grandma’s kitchen all those years before.
Since my grandma’s passing, the years continue to come and go in a wisp like they always do.
I’ve since given myself grace about the decision I made, and I like to think my grandma would have forgiven me too. And I simply didn’t know then what I know now.
Time may have slipped away, but the memories we were given will always live safely in my heart. I feel peace knowing my grandma will always be a part of me, even if I never got the chance to properly say goodbye.
And I can’t help but think of my grandma every time I look at her little glass fish sparkling in the sunlight in my own kitchen.
Be intentional.
Take the picture.
Create memories.
I promise you won’t regret it.
by Vicki Bahr 
by Natalie Platzkoester Pavlak 
by Her View From Home 
