The Cost of Community
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My grandpa passed away a couple of months ago, and it was partly my grandma’s fault. A bomb like that deserves some clarification so allow me to explain.
My grandparents were married for nearly 70 years. They met in the 1950s and were essentially inseparable ever since. They formed the kind of bond that is typically considered the norm for couples of their generation. Today, we might label it as a codependency but really it’s just the thing that happens with lives that intertwine.
They made a life for themselves, hustling, launching businesses, and truly thriving in their immigrant community. Life was good for a couple of Greeks and their two sons in the bustling city of Montreal in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s.
Unfortunately, the dream turned into a nightmare when their youngest son passed away tragically and unexpectedly in 1977. Without the tools to manage such grief, true healing never came. In the same way many of us remember life before or after significant events like 9/11 or Covid, this tragedy would mark them for the rest of their lives.
But time waits for no man. And life after loss trudges on whether you’re ready for it or not.
The Twilight Years
A few months shy of the ten year anniversary of their son’s death, my grandparents were handed the keys to their new house. It also happened to be the day I was born, just forty short years ago. And as children often do, the birth of their first grandchild mended something in their broken hearts.
As I grew up, I remember them always together, and yet still remaining within their own spheres holding traditional roles within the home and without. My grandfather was good with his hands and could repair just about anything. My grandmother was equally resourceful, and, having grown up in the depression era, she would find ways to use and reuse items I would just as easily throw away.
Despite age and illness, they remained fiercely independent. Remaining in their home well into their 90s and only moving into a seniors’ residence at the ages of 91 and 94. As it turns out, the reason they were able to remain in their home as long as they did was my grandmother. She kept up with all my grandfather‘s medications, appointments, as well as his diet. She was no longer simply the doting wife, but her role as primary caregiver increasingly eclipsed everything else. Caring for him, kept her going and kept her strong. For example, what little strength she could not muster for herself, she found easily in service of his needs. So on days when she herself was unwell and needed to rest, she would rouse herself to prepare his meals and meet his delicate needs. It’s actually a beautiful example of self sacrifice for the sake of others, but I am under no illusion that it did not come at a cost.
The Fatal Fall
You see, when I started by saying that she was partly responsible for my grandfather‘s death, I mean that their codependency meant that he could not function without her. If anything should happen to her, he would not be able to care for himself. The reason they lived so long in their home was because of her. Never mind that she would peel the skin off her grapes because they would give her an upset stomach. Her 90 lbs frame in a 4’8” body would likely topple over if the wind picked up. He may have appeared to be the strong one—tough as nails on the outside—but it was she who carried them to the end.
A few months ago, she fell and broke her pelvis. It’s a tale as old as time for the elderly. So she was hospitalized and getting the care she needed to recover. Meanwhile, my grandfather received temporary support that was arranged for him by my parents until my grandmother recovered and they could be reunited.
Did I mention that my grandfather is fiercely independent? Well, that just means that when he needed to use the washroom in the middle of the night, he didn’t call for help to do so. He tried to manage on his own which resulted in a fall that proved to be fatal.
And here, my friends, we see the cost of community. It was a beautiful thing to need each other, to depend on each other, to support one another. But it came at a cost. My grandparents depended on each other. The community they built with one another kept them alive and thriving but it cost them their very lives.
And I can’t stop thinking about the cost of community ever since he passed. That we are meant to live in community, and made to thrive in community, but let’s not be so disillusioned to think it won’t cost us something.
The Cost of Community
Every choice to live in community comes at a cost. It’s either my time: when things don’t get done as efficiently and I have to wait around for others to catch up. This is often seen as the downside to public education, for example. The amount of time it takes for a teacher to get through curriculum in a classroom of 30+ students is significantly longer than for students in smaller groups or homeschool settings.
There is also the cost of getting my own way. Now, before you accuse me of being an entitled princess, consider moments when you did not get your own preference! Whether it was the movie you went to see with your partner or the restaurant you ate at with friends. Not every choice is your first choice. The cost of community is laying down my own preferences. I don’t always get my way, I don’t get what I want, when I want it.
How about my money? Something more concrete and measurable comes at a cost when you live in community. That is the literal idea behind paying taxes: the fact that some of my money goes towards the greater good and that not all of it will directly benefit me. We struggle with this in a society that is vastly individualistic. We count the cost of community and decide it not to be worth the sacrifice. I believe that Covid only exacerbated this.
So Why Bother?
If you came here hoping for a good reason to stick around a community you’re ready to wash your hands of, let me end on a lighter note.
Caring for my grandfather gave my grandmother purpose in her life. She was useful and needed and loved, and that fulfilled something in her that she would not have received had she not had him to care for. English poet Alfred Tennyson famously said, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” We are quick to agree with this but our hearts still ache at a loss. Reflecting on this quote as it relates to my own life. It resonates deeply since moving away from my extended family. Maybe you can relate in your own way.
But the strongest case I can think to make for community is given to us by God himself. God himself lives in community as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. So if God—who is in need of nothing, entirely self-sufficient, and sustaining all things by the power of his word—if he chooses to live in community for time and eternity, it is reasonable to assume that God models for us how we should live best.
I am often reminded in Scripture that we are not just saved from our sin. We are saved into God‘s kingdom, the community of believers through the fellowship of the Holy Spirit. Anyone who has surrendered their lives to Jesus is in Christ. It is not just a status change moving from sinful to righteous. We are saved for a purpose which is to love God and to enjoy him forever in community. Knowing that that very community came at a great cost: the life of the Son of God himself.
What’s in the Ears
This is the part where I share a song or podcast I’m currently into. Whenever I see my extended family, I think of this song by Jake Johnson titled, Better Together. Let me know if you check it out!
If this stirred something in you, share this post with a friend or drop a comment below. I’d love to hear what small step you’re taking towards the flourishing life today! And don’t forget to subscribe so you don’t miss a thing.
Podcast available on Apple Podcast, Spotify, or your favourite streaming platform!
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