April 29, 2010

Goodbye

Today was my grammom's funeral. It felt surreal. . .

I was so touched that so many of my friends came to the viewing this morning and a few even stayed for the service. I can't thank them enough. It meant a lot to me. I've also had so many friends drop off trays of food for me and my family. I have felt truly supported and surrounded by love. I have a wonderful group of friends and family.

At my Grammom's services today, I had a little something to say. Since I don't have many other words today as I am completely exhausted from the last two weeks events, I'm posting it here for all of you. I know she heard me. . .

“The
most healing thing one can do for another is listen to their
stories.”-Anonymous

This
is the quote that was posted on the bulletin board in Grammom’s hospital room
last week. It was no coincidence that she ended up in that very room at the hospital, because my Grammom had stories
about almost everything. She told the same stories countless times, but I never
tired of hearing them. It’s because of this that I’m able to remember them so
well. Sometimes, after a long conversation with her, she would apologize to me
for taking up so much of my time, and I would tell her that I always had time
to listen to her stories and talk with her. I liked hearing them and because I
heard them so many times, I’m able to share some of them with you today.

Grammom could tell you stories about visiting Atlantic City during the war and the blacked
out windows on the boardwalk at night. She could tell you stories about having
her children, Becky and my Mom, in just two hours time because in her time, you slept through it. She
could also go on long tirades about dogs that lick themselves too much,
politics, and even how important it is to have pulp in your juice.

A couple years ago, my
grandmother was telling us how you just never know what's going to happen these
days, and because of that she told us she stored jugs of water in her
basement. She used old milk containers, wine bottles, whatever she can
come up with. My pop-pop patiently waited for her to finish her story and
then said, "Yeah, she's got so many jugs of water in the basement that if
I trip and fall down there, I'm liable to drown."

She was the storyteller;
he, her accompanying one-liner. The funny conversations between Pop-Pop and
Grammom are something I know I will really miss.

Another story I’ll never
forget is about how my grandparents met.

While
other women her age were settled down long before, my Grammom waited until the
age of 27, and my pop-pop didn’t pick her
up. She picked him up at a bar by
telling the bartender “get the sailor a drink.” Three months later they were
married, and they spent 65 years of their lives together.

……

When
all of this happened, I knew I wanted to say something about my Grammom and I
figured I would be able to find some interesting or funny things on my blog,
where I write frequently and have done so for the past four years. When I did a
search to see all the different times I mentioned her, I was surprised to find
that I had over four pages worth of things I had written about her. I knew I
wrote about her a couple times, but I didn’t realize how very much she impacted
my everyday life, even when I wasn’t with her.

My
Grammom was my biggest cheerleader. She was always telling me how much she
loved my hair, clothes or jewelry and that she thought I was a good mom. She
would brag about me right in front of me to her friends and lately, to the
nurses in the hospital. She could instantly lift my mood and make me feel good
like no other person has ever been able to do.
She taught me many things throughout the 35 years that I had with her.
Some of my favorite more light-hearted things are that classy girls drink their
beer from a glass, not a bottle, and that you can never have too many bird
baths, dish towels or body lotions.

—–

Even
though she’s no longer here with me, to tell me her stories or listen to mine,
I know she’ll always be with me because I see her in each of my daughters.

Grammom
never came to a family get-together without gifts in hand for me, my sister, my
Mom and my girls. Even though she didn’t have much, she truly took great joy in
giving and always had bags full of dish towels for us and coloring books for my
girls. She was so generous and thoughtful and was always thinking about others.
During a week-long hospital stay last month after she had fallen and broken a
rib, I went to visit her often and on one night, talked to her about some
things in my life that were bothering me. She gave me some great advice (as
usual), a huge hug and kiss, and told me that she liked it when I really talked to her. The day she went
home from the hospital, a dozen red roses were delivered to my house with a
card that read, “For our grand-daughter who needed a hug.” She must have called
as soon as she walked in the door to order them for me.

When
we were going through some of her things and looking for pictures to use today,
my sister and I found bags of Hallmark cards. In them, we found a father’s day
card for pop-pop, a birthday card for my dad, and Halloween cards for my girls
for next year, among others. She was always
thinking about others and I see her thoughtfulness in my "I," who was very
special to Grammom.

In addition to being
exceptionally thoughtful, she was always the type of gal who just put it all
out there. When I was younger, we were walking into the mall and there was a girl
in front of us whose butt was completely visible through large intentional
holes in her jeans. My grandmother clicked her tongue, pointed at the girl and
exclaimed, "Well, look at that! Her entire a$$ is hanging out of her
jeans! Will you look at that! What is WRONG with her?"

I remember my Mom being
horrified, but I actually thought it was pretty funny, because I thought there
was something seriously wrong with the girl too. My Grammom was always a very
classy dresser and she simply could not allow a barren butt to go unaddressed.
. . I see my Grammom’s outspokenness in
my "C" which is probably why she could always crack her Great-Grammom up so
easily.

……

On
Sunday, April 19^th, when my Grammom had her stroke, my life was
turned completely upside down. During those difficult eight days that she spent
in the hospital, I did a lot of thinking and a lot of praying. I also asked a
lot of questions to God, my main one being “why?” “Why did this have to happen
to her?" and "Why, if it was her time to go, did God make her wait all those
days?" Over the last couple days, I think I came up with an answer that makes
sense and I’d like to share it with you. . .

Grammom
spent a lifetime telling her family and friends her stories, but a funny thing
happened last week at the hospital. Instead of her telling us stories, we sat around her bedside and told her stories. We told her about our favorite foods she made for us
(macaroni & cheese and those amazing chicken fingers), and the fun things
we remember doing with her (like going through lipstick samples from the Avon
lady and cleaning bird baths with a crazy hose nozzle that kept spraying us in
the face). We told her how much we loved spending time with her and talking to
her, and most importantly, we told
her how very much we all loved her and the wonderful ways that she had impacted
our lives. It was our turn to heal
her with the stories and it took all
those days for us to tell her how much she meant to us and all the ways she
impacted our lives and shaped who we are.

……

“The most healing thing one can do for another
is listen to their stories.” But today, the most healing thing we can do for
ourselves and each other is to continue to tell hers. Let’s keep telling hers,
because in those stories she still lives.