My father, once a great and towering mountain, now appears smaller when I look upon him from above. And as more time has passed, he has become but a handful of earth—common and fragile soil.

My mother, once as vast and deep as the sea, one day appeared full and abundant in body and heart. Yet as the years went by, that fullness faded, and she withered like a slender tree. With the passing of more time, even her memories and recollections seemed to drift away, until she became like a floating cloud that vanished into the sky.

It has been many years since my mountain and my sea—my protectors and comforters—left my side. Yet here I am, still living in this world without them. Looking back, I now see myself as one half of a couple, living as a protector and comforter to the children whom the Lord has graciously given us.

I think of my parents who have graduated from this life and now dwell in the life to come. My father is no longer the steadfast mountain he once was, but he became the ground beneath me—forming the foundation upon which I build my life, layer by layer. His firm footing became the path that allows me to move forward.

My mother, it seems, gave up her freedom to live far and wide like the open sea. She took the stones that had rolled down from the mountains and the earth—weathered and worn by time—and broke them into countless grains of sand. Then, like her own children, she gathered them close and drove them toward the shore. And there, where the sea meets the land, she tirelessly protected the sand so that it would not be swept away again.

I suddenly realize that I have become one of those grains of sand. Having left the mountain that was my father, I was broken, battered, and rolled by life’s trials until I reached the sea—my mother. Though unseen, that sea received me as if it had been waiting, and through storms and waves shaped me into a small yet steadfast grain of sand—strong and unbreakable.

Now, standing between the mountain and the sea under the radiant sun, this grain of sand reflects its longing through the light. Together with other grains that have endured the same journey, it forms paths upon which many may walk. And when those paths are trodden and gone, the sand quietly smooths them over, as if nothing ever happened.

“Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past.
Ask your father, and he will tell you,
your elders, and they will explain to you.”
— Deuteronomy 32:7