It was the winter of 2011. I was at
work. I saw that I had received a phone call from my dad. The
message was, “Hey, why don't you give me a call.”
I was pretty sure this was the call I
had been dreading to get ever since my mom's mom had been diagnosed
with Lou Gehrig's disease two years prior.
I sheepishly called him back, fully
expecting to get the news.
I call, and get my mom, “Hey, what's
up?”
“Grandma died this afternoon.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Oh I have my moments,” my mom said
through the tears, “She asked Aaron to get her in her chair this
morning because she wanted to look out the window. She hasn't been
in her chair in three weeks, she's been too weak.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, Aaron then went to check on
her and she was breathing real hard. He got her back to her room
where she passed shortly after.”
“How's Aunt Cheryl doing? Is she a
basket case?”
“Oh, she's doing alright. Grandma
did a good job of preparing all of us before she left.”
“When are the services?”
“All of us kids are getting together
tomorrow and I'll let you know after that.”
“Ok, I love you mom.”
“Love you too.”
I had two days of work before starting
my bereavement leave. I guess it was just business as usual at work,
must not have exuded a state of mourning. I was actually
back-handedly accused of abusing the bereavement policy when I told
my boss I was going to take the full three days even though we
weren't leaving until Thursday morning. Oh well, next time I'll come
to work with tears in my eyes, or act depressed, or maybe I'll just
wear all black for a month so that people know I'm still mourning
the loss of a loved one.
The truth of the matter is that Grandma
would have never wanted people moping about over her. The very
thought that someone would shed a tear over her passing would have
been enough to make her live forever. Even so, I knew that the
distance between home and Grandma had maybe dampened the impact of
the news of her passing. And that as we got closer and closer to the
wake and funeral, it would become real.
The services were the end of the next
week in Grand Forks, ND. A short six hour drive on interstate from
our place. It's amazing how much you can process in the span of a
six hour drive. Especially a drive of that magnitude through the
flat plains of eastern South Dakota and North Dakota. There's not
much to look at, and if there's no ice, you can pretty much set the
cruise and go. This is what we did. As Corrine and the kids slept
through the drive, I did think a lot about Grandma. I thought about
her and my grandpa, and how they had been married 40 years before I
was even born, 46 in total before Grandpa passed in the late 80's.
And then I thought about how Grandma had lived so independently for
over twenty years. I thought about a woman that came from a small
family in rural North Dakota. How she married my grandpa and went on
to have six kids, 14 grandchildren, and a whole slew of great
grandchildren. I thought about how she had to endure my uncle Jeff's
sickness and passing in 2003. I thought about how hard it would be to
have to bury one of my kids. I thought about when she was diagnosed
with ALS and how her charisma and passion for life didn't change. I
thought about how an 86 year old woman that has been diagnosed with
ALS could be the strongest person I've ever known. And it's that
strength and passion for life that wasn't there when I looked into
the coffin at the wake.
When we got to town, we quickly changed
and went over to the funeral home. I was greeted with many familiar
faces, relatives I hadn't seen since the summer of 2002 at our last
family reunion at the lake. Many I hadn't seen since well before
that. It is unfortunate that an event like this is what brings us
together, but that's life I guess.
Corrine and I took the kids up front to
see Grandma. It's an interesting thing, a Raymond family wake. The
family member who has passed sits in the front of the funeral home
while everyone else stands in the back catching up. There's always
big stories, big laughs, and big characters. As I was saying hello
to everyone, I wondered if Grandma was lonely up in the front of the
building. Either way, Corrine and I made our way to the front.
We saw Grandma, she was all done up. I
don't know if it was the rigamortis or what, but she looked as if she
was made. Her jaw looked clenched, lips a little pursed. It's like
she was getting ready to raise her crooked pointer finger and give
someone the business. She did look good though. But she wasn't
there. It was the same feeling I felt when uncle Jeff died. Here
was a person that looked like someone I knew, but was void of all
life, love, laughter, and everything that made them who they were.
The sparkle in their eye, the tenderness of their embrace, all gone.
It saddened me to see my grandma laying
there. The choke started trickling up into my throat. I held the
tears back and started to the back. As I was walking back, I started
observing the rest of my family. Here were aunts and uncles that had
also lost a mother and grandmother. You could tell they had sorrow
in their eyes, but it was tempered with the relief that Grandma was
not longer suffering. And it was through that relief that led them
so quickly back to the joy and happiness that Grandma was known for.
As I talked with my relatives, it was as if Grandma were there
saying, “It's alright, I'm ok, now quit fussing and go on living.”
It was in this moment that I realized that my Grandmother hadn't
died, that she does live on. Her spirit is one of compassion, love,
and joy. It's because of the foundations that she laid by living how
she did, that her family can laugh at her wake and funeral.
I wonder if this is how it was in the
final days before Jesus' death? And I wonder if this is the reason
that Jesus came back for so long after he died? And I wonder if this
is the ultimate testament to a person's life, are people crying or
laughing at their funeral?
I know all of our time is limited on
this planet, some more than others. But when my final day comes, I
know I want people laughing.
-KaGe
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| Grandma Peaches and family. |
