When I was 12 my paternal grandmother died. It was the first time I had to deal with the death of someone close to me, and I remember the shock I got when I saw the open casket. A few minutes later, a little old woman came up to me and the rest of the grandchildren and introduced herself as one of my father's (and his brothers') elementary school teachers. She proceeded to tell us all sorts of stories about "the boys" that were also stories about our grandmother. She had us all laughing at the ways our fathers had misbehaved and how my grandmother had found them out. Hearing stories we'd never heard before about my grandmother was a great way to celebrate her life.
Heck knows my father would have never told me about the day he pushed his brother Stanley into the pond and tried to put one over my grandmother...
See, this is how lives are lived. They end, and yet they prompt those of us left to remember that they were
lived.
And that's lovely.
I found this pic -- but maybe they'll try and sign Jilli up instead -- that'd be a sight, especially if they let her have a parasol and a purse
You look wonderful in that picture. I would try to add you to the list of decorative people I want to keep in cages and play dress-up with, but, y'know. Killing. Pinky. That sort of thing.
JZ, the ceremony sounded lovely.
TAR,
I am SO over Team Florida. I swear, if that woman thanks God for one more thing, I will beat her with a shovel. (And if when I die, there is a God, and he is sitting on His Ass watching CBS? I'm gonna be doubly pissed.)
I really want
the Ganghans (sp?) to catch up. Those kids ROCK.
See, this is how lives are lived. They end, and yet they prompt those of us left to remember that they were lived. And that's lovely.
This. This is lovely, sara.
My grandfather would have enjoyed his hugely.
I'm so glad, and I'm glad that you were able to know that.
Where was your grandfather's service, and what was it like? (Something good, I'm guessing, or it wouldn't be a pleasant memory for you.) Would it have made him happy?
Yeah, it would have. He was buried in the family plot in a beautiful park in Kansas City, and then the memorial service was held in his church the next day. My uncle read a long piece that all the siblings (my dad's generation) had put together, and the three oldest cousins read a few of his favorite passages from Scripture. I read the Beatitudes. Then there was a long section when people just got up and spoke about him and the impact he'd had on their lives.
I've been trying to write this paragraph for half an hour now, and I'm not saying what I want to say, but: he would have been really honored and touched to see how many people were there: family, neighbors, Habitat families, friends he'd made through his church or his work, black people, white people--people whose lives he'd actually changed for the better. And I learned things about him I'd never known, like how he joined an interfaith group in the 60s who were dedicated to eradicating racism in their church communities, and by extension, in the larger Kansas City community, and started a program to create libraries in local prisons. It was really awesome, in the full-of-awe sense of the word.
and I'm not saying what I want to say
What you did say was really beautiful... He sounds like quite an amazing man.
Back when I was in college, one of my dorm mates would startle you by telling you what she really cherished about you. It's something most of us just aren't in the habit of doing.
At my eldest aunt's 50th wedding anniversary, all the sibs told a story or two of their interaction with the courting (since some were 13 years younger, it was hilarious. Apparently, my mom and her little brother interfered in the formal asking for-my-aunt's-hand with grampa.) But the thing that struck me was that there are so many more of these stories, these appreciations. My grandfather wrote 20 pages of autobiography. Stories burble up out of casual conversation. Hell, I didn't know of a half uncle and an exhusband (other side of the family) until I was in my teens.
But what I know is this: I remind my mom of hers, and from what I hear? That's a damned honor (she had a masters in math. In 1930. And would converse on any topic presented.) Grampa Floyd was a terrible courter, nearly food poisoned my grandma with reheated beans on a wood stove (partly why she married him, she said. Otherwise, he'd kill himself. He said he was the only one who would tolerate her bossiness. And he LIKED it.) We still have the wedding ring quilts gramps' family (which included 4 dead wives) made for them. It's history. It's mine.
TAR: That was an excellent prize for first place. And seriously, for that team, where
all four team members no doubt drive
an amazing one.
I am also so very ready
for Team Florida to go -
also Team Jersey
and I'm so very sad that the
Boston
Team
is gone.
