I woke to a day that matched my mood. It was cold, windy, and rainy. Thankfully the storm that had brought the rain didn't bring the ice they thought it might. As the time neared for us to leave for the graveside service the rain had quietly moved out, the wind and cold stayed with us.
As we neared the cemetery, we could see my Grandpa's casket, cars of those that had already arrived were lined up along the side. When I am facing an emotional day, I give myself a pep-talk. I tell myself how I have already cried my tears in private and there is no need to spill anymore tears and then I don't put any mascara on my bottom lashes, because I know me. That pep-talk lasted from my house until my eyes touched the soft warm wood of my Grandfather's casket, the battle of emotions had arrived.
As I got out of the truck and walked to my parents van to see my Grandma, I looked into the van to see the red-rimmed eye's of my cousin. At that moment I hated my personal rule, that I don't let anyone cry alone. I turned away to maintain control. I almost enjoyed the cold whipping wind, it gave me something to concentrate on instead of the reason I was standing on fake grass that covered a hole in the ground.The ceremony was quick. We sang an old hymn, heard some comforting scripture, I kept my eyes averted so as not to see the tears that were silently falling down the cheeks of my loved ones. Then the prayer started and I felt it safe to open my eyes to take a minute to capture a picture in my mind. But the picture I captured was of my Dad with his protective arm on my daughter, she was tucked in close to try and keep her warm, she had tears streaming down her sweet face, she looked directly into my eyes with such pain and heartache. I lost it. I motioned for her to come to me, she walked towards me with tears blurring her way. My baby girl, her sweet heart, it was breaking and I could do nothing to stop that pain.
Jilli feels with her whole heart, it's an amazing gift, one she will probably learn to give herself a pep-talk about. But as of now, she is not ashamed to show her grief, she is not afraid to allow people into her intimate pain. She is so pure, with her emotions. That morning she woke-up early, she was on a mission and there was no stopping her. She was going to draw Grandpa a picture of all his favorite things. She called Nana to discuss his favorite things and then she went to work. She drew all things bright and colorful, a rainbow, flowers, she drew an airplane because he loved airplanes. She drew a picture of the Edmund Fitzgerald because he and Grandma used to love to sit on the Aune Osborn riverbank watching the freighters float by. She wrote "Love, Jilli" on it and we slipped it into a paper protector. This was her final gift to her Great-Grandpa. After showing Grandma her picture, we gave it to a man who, after we all left, slipped it into the casket with Grandpa. I know he isn't in that wood box, I know his spirit is free to run in Heaven, but there is a part of me that feels such peace knowing Jilli's picture is safely tucked away with Grandpa's body.
After the prayer was over we were invited to say good-bye. I watched as my Grandma silently touched the wood chest as she told her best-friend of over 80 years, good-bye. I watched as my younger brother quietly helped her move all the way around the casket saying good-bye from every side as I am sure it was one of the hardest things she has ever had to do. I only briefly felt the smooth wood of his casket, I knew that if I stopped for too long, my mind would go to those sweet places that just brings more tears.
Quietly walking away, not looking back to see others say good-bye. Climbing into the truck, and slowly driving to our next destination was a welcomed break from all emotions flowing through me.
My brother (Tim) had helped my mom choose pictures for a slideshow, it was playing before and after the service on the big screen. At one point my Grandma was wheeled into the room and sat quietly watching the pictures slip by. How must if feel to be at the end of your life, silently watching pictures of that life, play in front of you? Seeing pictures of a young couple in love. Seeing pictures of a newly married couple, a young family, a middle-aged family, then the grandchildren, wedding anniversaries, great-grandchildren... Really what she was watching was a story of their love, the legacy they chose to leave their children, grandchildren, & great-grandchildren.
The service was beautiful, I of course had long forgotten my pep-talk, and with a hand full of kleenexes
I made it through the service with a tear stained cheeks and a red blotchy face. I couldn't help but cry with all the stories, memories, and emotions that were shared. My children had learned a great many things about my Grandpa during that time and about their Nana. It truly was a celebration of life. As the service ended we sang a final song, In Christ Alone, a song that I have requested be sung at my funeral (there Tim, I wrote it down for you to remember). I could barely sing two notes, even now as I listen to the song the tears fall, that one song completely encompasses all that I believe and feel for my Savior.
My favorite part of the song....
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine, bought with the precious blood of Christ
No guilt of life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home here in the power of Christ I'll stand
amen...
1 comment:
Just catching up on your blog and reading this entry now... and I'm weeping like the it all just happened today. I think I'll go visit his grave tomorrow. I've got some grieving to do.
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