God Be With You Till We Meet Again

On August 3 my mother called me to let me know that my grandma had passed away. The call did not come as a surprise; she had been in a skilled nursing facility and in and out of the hospital several times in the last years of her life. I started to think about my grandma and what I remembered about her from my childhood. I thought about watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune with her. I thought about the books, and books, and books she had on her shelves. I thought of her reading in her chair. I thought about the white styrofoam cup of iced tea she always had around (it is my absolute favorite drink to carry around, and the root of why I love Uncle Harry's iced tea). I recalled the nights we stayed with her and how she would have ALL of the fixings for ice cream sundaes. I told my children that she had passed away. I prayed for her, for my mother, and for my Uncle Perry. None of those moments brought tears to my eyes.

I'm a crier. I inherited that from this grandmother, so I began to wonder why I wasn't emotional about her passing. I chalked it up to the fact that I knew my grandmother had enjoyed a long life, I knew each time she went to the hospital she returned more tired, and just that her passing wasn't a complete surprise. But I also wondered why I seemed so callous.

Yesterday her service was held at the church of my early childhood, the Church of Christ in Dos Palos. Gracie and I stood near the door greeting people and I was all smiles. I sat down and we began to sing the a hymn, Old Rugged Cross. Tears began to well up from nowhere. They weren't tears of sadness. I didn't really know what they were. I looked down at Ashlyn to find her worried eyes looking back at me. "Don't worry. I'm not sad, honey. I'm just crying." I told her.

My brother gave a beautiful eulogy highlighting what we all knew about my grandmother-we couldn't think of time she had anything bad to say about anyone or really, anything. I'm certain she thought them, but she followed the rule that if we don't have anything nice to say, we shouldn't say anything at all. I smiled a lot remembering her. I considered how easily she laughed at herself and was reminded of how important that is. My brother mentioned that my grandmother knew that faith could be fleeting, so she persisted as the years went by, asking him to pray with her each time he visited. I considered the years when my I had lost my faith. More tears.

My Uncle Perry spoke at the end. He shared that the morning after he learned of her passing, he went to church. The message was, in part, that when we pass from this life, we no longer live by faith. We no longer must believe in what we cannot see, because we are with Him. We. Are. With. Him. More tears.

We enjoyed a reception afterward. We stopped at my mom's to help put things away and to visit for just a bit. We laughed together. Then we got in the car. And I cried all the way home.

I cried out all of the feelings I've been too busy to have. I cried with gratitude for that foundational place of my faith, where I sat and sang hymns yesterday. I've been singing "God Be With You Till We Meet Again" since we left (and for anyone that knows it, I'm NOT EVEN hitting those high notes, but I don't care). I cried with gratitude because as I sat singing in her service yesterday, I looked over to my husband, knowing the hymns were familiar to him, too. I cried with gratitude for my grandmother, because her grandchildren and great-grandchildren treasures to her, and she loved us well. I cried because she found joy in simple things, and I long for more simplicity in my own life. I cried because home is so good and I love family.

So, I'm not callous. But, I'm busy. Too busy. At the service yesterday a cousin let me know that she misses my writing. I have missed it, too, but I struggle to find the time. There's nothing like losing a loved one to make you shift your priorities. So, today I skipped the gym and came here instead. I will honor her today. I have an errand to run, so I'm going to stop for my iced tea in a white styrofoam cup (many of my former students know me with my white cup) and this afternoon I'm going to sit on the couch and read my book-simple pleasures that remind me of her.

I recently learned that the term goodbye originates from the phrase, "God be with you". After hearing my uncle yesterday, I realized goodbye isn't the right word for my grandma, because she IS with Him.

But, to those of you reading-Goodbye.

Until next time, in love,

Dusty