This last couple weeks have been filled with lots of reminders that life includes death. It began with the death and funeral of a long time member of my parish, Great-Grandfather to a young lady in the small group I lead with our youth group. It was my first funeral with the Episcopal Church. The funerals in the EC are the Easter Liturgy which is profoundly meaningful and beautiful to me for a few reasons:
a) it brings about the cycle of this whole thing we call life
b) it's a true celebration of the life this person lived here on earth and the resurrection they experienced being marked as God's own.
I shared with my student that the relationship she had with her great grandfather was something to be cherished and held special to her heart. I shared with her that I had one great left, "She just turned 104 a few days before Gretchen was born, " I said to her at the funeral, beaming with pride and misty-eyed thinking about the inevitable future loss I would grieve knowing full well, that my GG would not (contrary to my subconscious thoughts) live forever. The following week my dad called to tell me that my GG passed away that morning, on All Saints Day.
I learned moments before her service that she was raised and confirmed Irish Catholic and raised my Grandma and her sisters catholic. She was not memorialized in a catholic church though. Her service was at a funeral home with cheesy curtains and florescent lights. The whole room felt dead, yet her life was so full. Her faith was so central to her existence. I began to wonder if this location was picked because my family is awful at planning or because something happened to make her not want to be Catholic anymore.
Days after her funeral we got another call, also from my father. My maternal Grandfather has been digressing in his health for the last few years and has taken a final turn for the "There's nothing more we can do for you" talk from his team of Specialists. He's in his late 80s and served over seas in WWII. He was diagnosed with COPD and both his lungs have become paralyzed only recently causing him tremendous discomfort and agony for those who love and care for him. the prognosis is bleak and so I will wait for that sad, sad call once more.
Days after this call, we got a call from Christian's dad this time. His Grandma (his last living grandparent) has taken a turn for the worse. She was admitted into the hospital on Saturday and we should go see her. Monday morning we went to St. Mary's to visit and pray with Grandma Grace. We brought the girls, not knowing what we were going to see nor understanding the finality of this meeting. After being there only a short while, Christian's aunts returned from a meeting with a nurse to inform us of the decisions they and Grandma had come to that morning. She would no longer be receiving dialysis and would like to be made comfortable until she's brought home to be with her Lord. I cried. I looked at this beautiful woman lying in this hospital bed with paper thin skin and frailty beyond comprehension. She was so tired. She was so weak. She drank the prayer we prayed and I could tell she was thankful for her grandson and the man of God he is. As I looked at her and looked at my husband my eyes softened to the scene and my ears became attentive to the stories he was telling her as she rested. I soon left the room with the girls to allow Christian some privacy with her to say what he needed to for closure, knowing all too well this would likely be the last words he would say to her on earth.
So, again our phone awaits that sad, sad call to inform us that another saint has entered Heaven and a celebration of life is to take place.
1 comment:
Good post Jodi. I miss grandma. I didn't like her funeral and felt weird around my aunts, uncles and cousins. We seemed to be pushing the "grandma was really great" agenda. She was great, but if you don't know that, I won't be able to tell you some story about all she did for us. She was just great.
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