My grandmother passed away a little over a week ago. She was my last living grandparent. Oddly enough, all of my grandparents have passed away in the month of August. Last year was my paternal grandfather, the one I was closest to--we lived in the same city during my undergraduate years and I spent quite a bit of time with him. That Friday a week-and-a-half ago, I was missing him so much that it brought me to tears. I looked up his obituary to see the pictures, and couldn't believe it had been over a year since he passed. Then that evening I found out my maternal grandmother had passed away, too.
The kind of grief I experienced has had less to do with regretting they were gone (both of them had survived their respective spouses for well over a decade, and both had terminal illnesses--we were glad to see them relieved of their suffering) and more to do with the inconceivability of death. How can a person be here in the physical world one moment, and somewhere else the next? What kind of reunion awaited my grandmother when she hadn't seen her husband in seventeen years? What are my grandparents doing now?
These last two funerals I've attended have been very comforting. Being with family is wonderful, and celebrating the life of a wonderful person does a lot to dispel the unanswerable questions. I love eulogies. My mother gave a beautiful one for Grandma. What touched me even more was hearing Grandma's Bishop and Stake President share memories of her. They talked about a side of her that I was never able to see, but is exactly in keeping with what I knew of her. She was a kind, elegant lady who loved children and youth. She remembered details in the lives of the people around her--she cared about them and loved cheering them on in their pursuits. I had no idea she was so involved in her ward, particularly when her health began failing.
It makes me regret that I didn't know and appreciate this side of her when she was alive. But in a way, it's more inspiring that way. The qualities she had that I want to emulate, I am more determined to develop on the strength of her memory.
I've also been typing up my mom's personal history. She it wrote just after my oldest brother was born, and I'm making a digital copy. I've been amazed at the level of faith my mother has shown through her conversion, her marriage, and other decisions in her life. She was so determined to do the righteous thing in all of her big life decisions, to live the gospel to full extent. Even as a new convert, she was able to distinguish true doctrine from the false opinions of some of the members she encountered, and not confuse the offense with her knowledge of what was true. Reading her history also helped me understand myself better, seeing how my mom described and dealt with qualities that I share with her.
Reading family histories is so inspiring. I still haven't finished the compiled histories of my dad's ancestors, but now I must. It makes me want to compile any missing stories in my family history, make sure my parents complete their personal histories, and of course write my own.
The kind of grief I experienced has had less to do with regretting they were gone (both of them had survived their respective spouses for well over a decade, and both had terminal illnesses--we were glad to see them relieved of their suffering) and more to do with the inconceivability of death. How can a person be here in the physical world one moment, and somewhere else the next? What kind of reunion awaited my grandmother when she hadn't seen her husband in seventeen years? What are my grandparents doing now?
These last two funerals I've attended have been very comforting. Being with family is wonderful, and celebrating the life of a wonderful person does a lot to dispel the unanswerable questions. I love eulogies. My mother gave a beautiful one for Grandma. What touched me even more was hearing Grandma's Bishop and Stake President share memories of her. They talked about a side of her that I was never able to see, but is exactly in keeping with what I knew of her. She was a kind, elegant lady who loved children and youth. She remembered details in the lives of the people around her--she cared about them and loved cheering them on in their pursuits. I had no idea she was so involved in her ward, particularly when her health began failing.
It makes me regret that I didn't know and appreciate this side of her when she was alive. But in a way, it's more inspiring that way. The qualities she had that I want to emulate, I am more determined to develop on the strength of her memory.
I've also been typing up my mom's personal history. She it wrote just after my oldest brother was born, and I'm making a digital copy. I've been amazed at the level of faith my mother has shown through her conversion, her marriage, and other decisions in her life. She was so determined to do the righteous thing in all of her big life decisions, to live the gospel to full extent. Even as a new convert, she was able to distinguish true doctrine from the false opinions of some of the members she encountered, and not confuse the offense with her knowledge of what was true. Reading her history also helped me understand myself better, seeing how my mom described and dealt with qualities that I share with her.
Reading family histories is so inspiring. I still haven't finished the compiled histories of my dad's ancestors, but now I must. It makes me want to compile any missing stories in my family history, make sure my parents complete their personal histories, and of course write my own.
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