This week my husband and I are on “vacation”. For some, vacation means a new environment, new experiences and new places. For us, most of our vacations happen in the same place. In purchasing a little get-away cottage a few years ago, our vacations center around this house.

Over the past three years we have done some improvements to the home- some cosmetic like painting various rooms and others necessary maintenance which involves furnace and fireplace professionals. We try hard to strike a balance between puttering around the home and playing in the area: kayaking, hiking, biking, etc.

On this trip we have a few things to do. While I was transplanting plants from home, my husband was repairing the rotted boards on a gate. Part of the repair requires that he notch out both ends of a 2 x 4 so that they join with the uprights of the gate. As he was chiseling the piece he commented, “Your dad showed me how to do this.” I smiled, remembering how my dad loved to putter around with projects. I can see his capable hands- the one pointer finger slightly shorter than others due to a wood shop incident.

After my husband said his comment, I started thinking about others who showed me different ways to do things: how to hammer in small nails by holding the nail with a needle nose plier until the nail gets started, how to pin two pieces of fabric together ensuring that the pins are perpendicular to the needle of the machine. And I have learned things not necessarily from my elders. One of my childhood friends showed me how to make grilled cheese in the skillet using a spatula to smoosh down the bread. We were about nine or ten at the time and I amazed at her cooking ability as my mother never let me near the kitchen let alone the stove until I was an adult. I still make grilled cheese the same way.

I heard an interview of a woman who was experiencing the final stages of her parents’ dementia. As she was struggling through the emotional rollercoaster of guilt, helplessness, loss, and grief she was explaining her feelings to another friend. That friend said, “What is the final lesson your parents are teaching you through this?” It struck the interviewee as it struck me that regardless of the difficulty, there is always a lesson to be learned and/or to impart.

Even though it is eight, five, three, and almost one year past, since our parents (father-in-law, mother, father, mother-in-law respectively) have died, I am still reflecting, ruminating and learning from the last stages of our parents’ lives. I have learned to forgive and to extend grace to myself and others, especially when the end did not unfold as I thought it would. I realize now that each of the players in this last act were doing the best they could under the circumstances. That lesson of grace has helped me as I deal with others. Life is too short not to extend grace to one another.

What about you? What have you learned directly from others? What are the memories surrounding that lesson? What can you impart to someone else? A child, grandchild, neighbor, niece, nephew? A friend? If you were to give your final life lesson, what would that be?