The call came early in the morning, as soon as I heard the shrill ring of the phone I knew what it was. I knew because I'd woken up early every morning since I left her and listened for the phone. I didn't cry, I just sighed and went back to sleep. Because I was so happy for her journey here on earth to be over. And so proud of the way she lived her last days full of dignity, strength and a firm resolve to do it her way. Her funeral was scheduled just a few short days later. My mom came to my house and her and I went to go pick up my sister. E stayed home with G so that I could be free to do anything I needed to do. I can tell you I really missed having those two with me but it was convenient to not have a 5 year old boy to also take care of. We drove the 4 hours to pick up Sarah and then we drove to Libby.
It was so good to walk into Granny's house and see it full of people. Heck, just pulling in the drive and hearing the buzz of people from the house was endearing. We spent some time with everyone, ate some food (of course, that's what we do there), chatted. People were coming and going and when they'd return they had obviously been crying but they were murmuring about, "How good she looks." I had to actually take someone aside and ask what was going on. They had been to see Granny, who had been made up for burial. Apparently that was information we had missed by being there later than most other family members. I didn't see her until the next morning but I'm glad because as nice as she looked, the little body in the casket with strange makeup looked nothing like the Granny my memories are made of.
About 9:00 that night an aunt of mine who was writing the eulogy to deliver at the funeral the next morning called me. "Would you please speak at the funeral tomorrow?" Uh, what? Could no one have mentioned this a little sooner? She told me that a cousin of mine was also planning on speaking but that no one else "could." I said I'd try to come up with something but it was, after all, 9:00 at night and I still had to take my mom and sister and get us checked and moved into the hotel and then get my sister ready for bed, etc. after having spent 7 hours on the road. That all happened (physically exhausting tasks) and I was able to finally sit down, with only my tablet to type on, at about 11:30 that night.
I remembered back to when I ended up having to wing it at my dad's funeral. I was embarrassed that I wasn't better prepared for it and I didn't say what I wanted to say. But, you see, at that time I had done so much preparation for the funeral (slideshow, programs, obit, making arrangements with a pastor, a church to hold it, the sheriff's department to have their honor guard, etc.) and I had a breastfeeding 8 month old baby G to take care of. I just plain ran out of time then. I didn't want to wing it for Granny's funeral and embarrass myself again. I shut off my tablet and went to bed, fully intending to apologize to my cousin for leaving her to do it by herself.
But I just laid in the hotel room listening to both my mom and sister snoring like freight trains. There were too many thoughts running through my mind to ignore so I turned the tablet back on and began typing. At about 3:30 in the morning I was satisfied enough to deem it good enough. After all I had to be up in three hours to get my sister up and ready for the funeral, plus myself. I was worried we'd even be on time. But I'm me and with a lot of help from my mom with my sister, we made it on time.
We collected in a back room, all of our family stuffed into a room barely big enough to hold half of us. When the pastor asked who was speaking no one spoke up. I held back for a little bit of a reason. Unsure if my humor and way of speaking would go over well I wanted to see if maybe I could chicken out and just let my cousin handle it. I guess I was surprised when no one made a sound. I looked at my cousin and asked her, "I thought you were working on something?" "No." Uh oh. So it's just me. And my aunt (who married into the family mind you) who was delivering the eulogy. Just what I wanted, to stand up in front of people after getting about three hours of sleep, and do something emotionally difficult.
But that's what I did. Because someone had to do it. She was a woman who grew up during the depression, was a nurse when medical care was not as technological as it is today, a woman who birthed ten children (the last three being triplets while in her 40's in the 1960's) and then took an active part in the lives of her 20+ grandchildren and I felt she deserved that and so, so much more. At first I thought, "Why aren't any of her friends speaking?" and then I realized that she had most likely outlived her friends. I wouldn't have let the opportunity pass to herald her for the amazing person she was. I just wish I hadn't been the only one able to speak. I'm sure I was not eloquent, I know I had to fight back tears (especially when talking about introducing her to G), but I felt like I did it some justice. I made people cry and I made them laugh. Laughter through tears was my goal and I nailed it.
The service was nicely done and the reception was the highlight for me. I got to see so many familiar faces and I felt so comfortable among them. I really and truly missed having E & G there, especially because I couldn't introduce them to the people who shared so many memories with me.
I cannot knit, crochet, do needle point, paint or even draw you a picture. My craftiness and ability to create things by hand is seriously lacking. I can barely darn a hole in my husband's socks so I have never once attempted to piece together a blue ribbon worthy quilt for the county fair. I learned nothing of the sort from my grandma. I cannot tell you if she knew how to do any of these things, I can just tell you they are not things I ever saw her do.
What I did learn from her was how to create crisp hospital corner when making a bed. I learned that voodoo magic that is folding a fitted sheet. I learned to always have a pot of coffee ready to brew in case company stopped by. I learned how to beat a lump of bread dough into submission and that a woman needs muscular biceps to do it properly. I learned that there are very few foul odors that cannot be eradicated by simply lighting a match. I learned that red lipstick will instantly class up an outfit. I learned never to marry a man with hair prettier than my own. So I married a bald man. I learned that there is no such thing as "too many catalogs." Especially Fingerhut catalogs. And I learned that no matter where I am in my life, what obstacles I am facing, what confidence I am lacking, what choices I have to make that I just have to do the best with what God gives me and be grateful for it.
What I learned from her when she likely did not know I was watching was how to put others needs in front of my own. When we were visiting her house I would wait for my parents to fall asleep and I would sneak down the stairs and find Granny at the dining room table reading in the silence. She would give up her space and quiet time to talk to me about anything under the sun. Now that I am a mom I understand even more how hard it would have been to give up her time at the end of yet another full day. When I introduced my newborn son to Grandma she was the one person whose opinion mattered most to me. "How'd I do Granny? He is pretty awesome right?" Her response was, "Not bad, I think he'll do." She was not much for compliments but I knew that was her way of saying she was proud and simultaneously giving me a little dose of Elsie brand humility that we all could use from time to time.
I learned from watching her be a wife to my grandpa that a man's home is his castle. But by growing up with her as my grandma I learned that a woman's home is more than any mere structure. Her castle involves the children she raises because her children hold up those castle walls. It is her sense of family mixed with traditions and morals and faith that protect the children holding up the castle walls. Her castle is decorated with the love her family shares, the memories her family creates, and the lineage they all perpetuate.
My grandma was one of my very best friends. Not just as a child but also well into my adulthood. That relationship is the one I will miss the most. I had the honor of spending a few days with her last week and I won't even try to put into words how healing it was for my heart. When I left I was not sad that she was dying, I was excited for her to take her place in eternity. Knowing her place in Heaven is so soundly established makes it easier for me to let go of her earthly presence. When I went to return home I said, "Granny, I don't want to leave but it is time for me to go." She squeezed my hand and had tears spring to her eyes. I told her, "It's okay, I can feel your heart saying the same thing to me." And I promised her right then that I would love her for the rest of my life with the same depth of love I have had for her my whole life.
I owe her no less than that.
My male cousins were the pallbearers. Such handsomeness, right?
Right where she belongs, next to my grandpa who has been gone for almost 20 years.
My generation!
The great-grandkids.
This is my Granny's older sister. She'll be 98 years old in May. She's amazing and I enjoy her so very much.
My Granny's surviving kids! The only ones missing are my oldest uncle and my dad.
