I sit here the day after my plans stop. I have just been striving to make it to June 26th and haven't looked forward at all. So, today is a day to start looking at what July and August might hold for me.
Three of the weddings were ones in which I officiated. All very different couples from one another. All happily happened. And, I'm glad my role is finished.
One wedding was for dear friends - I had a small, but upfront, role. It was a wonderful weekend to celebrate them. I wish I'd had more time to just settle into that fun. Finally, I joined P in celebrating with friends who were married in South America, but celebrating here.
The funeral - the reason for my post - was my grandmother. Irmgard Anna Elizabeth Knock Becker. So much of my memory of her was as sternish provider. I realized as we celebrated her life that I never doubted that she loved me and I never doubted that I loved her. It wasn't until these later years, however, that we spoke the words.
She was tenacious (which makes me proud to identify with her :-) ), she was faithful, she had strong opinions and shared them. She regularly served others without really talking about it much. And, she is the person who modeled regular exercise.
I have some key memories:
I visited during my first year of seminary (2001-2002). She was ironing and talking about lesbians. Yup. Lesbians. She said to me something like, "I don't understand it. But, I guess I don't need to understand it." I got the sense that she wasn't so sure of my sexual orientation (I'd never really talked about my dating life...partly 'cause I didn't have much of one), and she wanted to know that I'd be loved by her no matter what. I also think that she'd been thinking about it because of conversations happening through her church.
Two memories from being young: 1) Cousins were playing in the basement - with the pool table in particular. One of us decided it'd be a good idea to jam the pool cues into the ceiling tiles and make holes. I remember doing it a couple times. It was pretty satisfying - sort of like popping bubble wrap. She came down those stairs livid. I don't remember what she said or how she said it, but I remember going from a feeling of "hey, this is fun!" to "oh, Grandma's mad. This must have been bad."
2) She and Grandpa were in a car accident and her seatbelt, while saving her, also bruised her pretty badly. I remember being instructed not to make her laugh and being somewhat amazed at the fragility of my Grandma at that time. She had never seemed fragile before to me. I also remember that she would laugh and then wince.
Due to the nature of my job, I'm not able to get to the family Christmas gathering when all the cousins are there. So, I've made it a point to go and visit Grandma at another time. I started to appreciate these - usually Jan or Feb - visits a lot. One of the visits happened to be right after she got home from knee replacement surgery - and it was the first time that I really felt like I was allowed to help her out. It was an honor to get to - to help her with her physical therapy. To help get meals together. To chat with her throughout the day.
I got to see Grandma alive one last time - the day it was decided to not put the feeding tube back in. She'd gone into the hospital due to pneumonia and the day her discharge was being organized she had a major stroke. As I sat with her, as I saw her interact with people in her diminished capacity, I realized a sweetness that I've recognized at other times. But, I got to really think about that sweetness. It undergirded everything - even her opinions - even her tenacity - especially her faith and her care for her family.
Our phone conversations in the last few years were about the same things - the weather, her health, my busyness, my dad's church, the great-grandchildren - and her voice always held a sense of joy to it. It's that quiet, yet strong joy that I imagine her still holding on to as she is welcomed into the life everlasting.
1 comment:
This is beautiful, and real. Thanks for sharing.
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