GRAND CANYON April, 1991

When he was thirteen years old, my son Gregg, gave me a framed picture of the Grand Canyon for a birthday gift. We hung it on the wall near my bed, so it would be the first thing I would see each morning. Gregg promised that when he was an adult, and wealthy, he would take our family there on a vacation. As long as he could remember, he had heard me talking and dreaming about the Grand Canyon. I had told him, that I never understood why people flocked to theme parks to see man-made scenery. The most joyous wonders on earth were what God has created and to me the Grand Canyon was at the top of God’s list.
Three years later, when Gregg became terminally ill, a relative arranged for our family to travel to the West Coast. We flew to Arizona and then toured the state by motor coach. Our first stop was the Grand Canyon. The coach meandered through the mountains approaching the Canyon, and my anticipation grew. I was short of breath, either from excitement or the high altitude. It didn’t matter.
When the coach stopped, I jumped off. Knowing my long awaited dream was on the other side of the parking lot, I started to run. The cool breeze pushed me along, helping me gain speed. Faster and faster I ran, like an Olympic athlete. Tears rolling down my face, I raced forward, but where was the Canyon? I couldn’t see anything. I was disappointed. After all this time, had I expected too much of it?
I stopped so suddenly, I almost fell on my face. I was frozen with fear. Even though the Canyon brink was twenty feet away, I was terrified that I would fall into the vast abyss.
Shaky and dizzy I reached down and felt the solid ledge I was standing on, but still could not move.
The wind gently nudged me. I became aware of Gregg standing next to me.
"Ma", he said, "If you don’t go to the edge, you might as well be looking at the picture in your bedroom. You’ll never forgive yourself - this is your dream."
He placed his arm tightly around my shoulder and guided me to the rim. Despite Gregg’s illness, I could feel the loving assurance and strength in his arm. Together we inched forward and looked into the glorious depths of the Grand Canyon.
It was as if a giant shovel had reached down from heaven and scooped out a portion of Arizona. The dark rain clouds, created heavy shadows, muting the pink, orange and purple colors of the cliffs. It started to rain. The Colorado River looked like a thin brown ribbon weaving in and out through the tremendous mesas and curiously shaped buttes. There was no sound. Only a great stillness and a sense of height. I took a deep breath and smelled the sweet wildflowers. I thought how lucky they were to be living in such a wondrous place. It was more than I had imagined. No book, no photograph, nothing had prepared me for this spectacular experience. It’s no wonder they call the Canyon Grand. We both were aware of sharing this special and unique moment. The timelessness of the Canyon paralleled the enduring bond between Gregg and me.
Three months later, Gregg passed away. The photograph I had taken of him precariously near the Canyon edge is the picture I have given everyone as a memento.
Now each morning, when I look at the precious birthday gift from long ago, not only do I see the Grand Canyon, but I also see, my dear one, Gregg.