Planting Grandma
I know, it's a bit of a flippant title. but 'swelp me, that's what it looked like we were doing!
The funeral was as successful as these things can be, given the nature of the event. The extended family that had already arrived in Arlington Friday night met at my uncle Bob's house to discuss the service with the preachers. We had a tag team sky-pilot arrangement, with the regular pastor of First Christian Church and a ringer the family had flown in from somewhere. The guest preacher was a family friend from back when he & Dad and Dad's 3 younger brothers were all in grade school. We spent the evening telling tales of the family, and letting the preachers get material for the service. It was a great evening, full of laughter and memories. I even learned a few things I didn't know, in spite of 36 years of hanging out with this particular family.
Saturday morning was wet & cold. Typical funeral weather. We had the services at the church my grandmother had attended since the 1950's. We set up dozens of family pictures in the church parlor, and did the meet & greet routine right up until showtime.
I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout. We didn't have a sellout crowd, but the sanctuary pews were about 3/4 full when the service commenced. Out of the 4 sons, 4 daughters in law, 7 grandkids with 6 spouses & 10 (plus one on the way) great grandkids we had everyone except my cousin Cindy's husband who stayed with their brood of 3 up in Minnesota, and my cousin Scott's wife, who's in Singapore. Add to that a bunch of 2nd cousins and their families, etc., so the 'immediate family' was a pretty sizable bunch. There were lots of people from the church, family friends, and probably a couple of professional funeral-goers tucked in somewhere.
It was a traditional service, with a lot of older hymns such as "What A Friend We Have In Jesus", and "Amazing Grace". One of the preachers remarked that Grandma liked the older hymns, and never got used to the "new" hymnal that was issued in 1970!
It was a very nice service. I'm not all that religious these days, but the family is. I was raised in the faith, so nothing was out of the ordinary for me. I got a bit of a quiver when the 23rd Psalm was read. You know, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want". You've heard it dozens of times, but until it's being read over someone you've loved, it never really has the same impact. The great grandkids went up front and warbled out "Jesus Loves Me", which Grandma would have loved. That lady was never happier than when holding a baby in her arms!
My only beef with the service was that Uncle Tom's theme for the funeral was "The Gift Of Life". Not a bad message, and I liked how the preachers worked it into the service, but the spectacle of Grandma's box of ashes sitting inside a gift bag full of tissue paper up on a plinth in the front of the sanctuary appalled me. It was just beyond tacky. Next time, guys, spring for an urn. Send me the bill, I'll cover it!
After the service we did some more meet & greet in the parlor, and eventually the family went to the Fellowship hall for a lunch provided by the ULOLOL. (United League Of Little Old Ladies aka The Blue-Haired Brigade... they just live to do this kind of thing!) I got to catch up with the folks I hadn't seen the night before, and hang out with Mom's 'unofficial' daughter Shannon (verse 13) and her family, which was really nice.
After a short delay hoping for the weather to clear, we headed out to the cemetery, Greenwood in Fort Worth. I hadn't been there since Granddad's funeral in 1975, when I was a wee pup. Grandma and Granddad's plot is right next to her parent's grave, and his parents are right over the hill. There's a few more of our kin scattered around. She'll be in good company.
It rained throughout the interment. It seemed somehow appropriate. There was just enough room under the canopy to get everyone in out of the rain, but it was a tight squeeze. We had a last few words, someone played a dreadful "contemporary Christian" song on a boombox, and then the preacher did the customary "dust thou art & to dust thou shalt return" routine as two of my uncles poured Grandma's ashes down the hole. We spent a few final minutes talking, and then people started to drift off, needing to catch a plane or go feed some hungry kids.
For whatever reason, I was the last one to get to my car, and as I fiddled with my cellphone to turn it back on, I looked up to find myself the only person remaining. As I drove off, I looked back over my shoulder and saw the empty canopy, the fabric-covered chairs and the collection of floral arrangements around the now-empty plinth. I got this terrible feeling that we were leaving too early. I brought the car to a halt, and just sat there for a while. It didn't seem OK to me. It's a cold, wet day, and we're all just driving off and leaving Grandma there all alone.
I debated going back to the gravesite and just keeping her company for a while. As I sat there, though, another thought wormed its way into my often-times rather thick head. We weren't leaving her there alone. She's among family now, and cold & wet has no meaning to her. For us, the living? We have said our goodbyes, the time for sitting with the dead is past. Time now to concentrate on the Gift of Life she has provided for us, and carry on with our lives. So, that thought in mind, I put the Caddy back in gear and left the cemetery. Some day I'll return, either with my sister's kids or perhaps even my own, and tell them all about the quiet yet kind old woman who devoted so much of her life to loving children.
That will be a gift worth giving.
The funeral was as successful as these things can be, given the nature of the event. The extended family that had already arrived in Arlington Friday night met at my uncle Bob's house to discuss the service with the preachers. We had a tag team sky-pilot arrangement, with the regular pastor of First Christian Church and a ringer the family had flown in from somewhere. The guest preacher was a family friend from back when he & Dad and Dad's 3 younger brothers were all in grade school. We spent the evening telling tales of the family, and letting the preachers get material for the service. It was a great evening, full of laughter and memories. I even learned a few things I didn't know, in spite of 36 years of hanging out with this particular family.
Saturday morning was wet & cold. Typical funeral weather. We had the services at the church my grandmother had attended since the 1950's. We set up dozens of family pictures in the church parlor, and did the meet & greet routine right up until showtime.
I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout. We didn't have a sellout crowd, but the sanctuary pews were about 3/4 full when the service commenced. Out of the 4 sons, 4 daughters in law, 7 grandkids with 6 spouses & 10 (plus one on the way) great grandkids we had everyone except my cousin Cindy's husband who stayed with their brood of 3 up in Minnesota, and my cousin Scott's wife, who's in Singapore. Add to that a bunch of 2nd cousins and their families, etc., so the 'immediate family' was a pretty sizable bunch. There were lots of people from the church, family friends, and probably a couple of professional funeral-goers tucked in somewhere.
It was a traditional service, with a lot of older hymns such as "What A Friend We Have In Jesus", and "Amazing Grace". One of the preachers remarked that Grandma liked the older hymns, and never got used to the "new" hymnal that was issued in 1970!
It was a very nice service. I'm not all that religious these days, but the family is. I was raised in the faith, so nothing was out of the ordinary for me. I got a bit of a quiver when the 23rd Psalm was read. You know, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want". You've heard it dozens of times, but until it's being read over someone you've loved, it never really has the same impact. The great grandkids went up front and warbled out "Jesus Loves Me", which Grandma would have loved. That lady was never happier than when holding a baby in her arms!
My only beef with the service was that Uncle Tom's theme for the funeral was "The Gift Of Life". Not a bad message, and I liked how the preachers worked it into the service, but the spectacle of Grandma's box of ashes sitting inside a gift bag full of tissue paper up on a plinth in the front of the sanctuary appalled me. It was just beyond tacky. Next time, guys, spring for an urn. Send me the bill, I'll cover it!
After the service we did some more meet & greet in the parlor, and eventually the family went to the Fellowship hall for a lunch provided by the ULOLOL. (United League Of Little Old Ladies aka The Blue-Haired Brigade... they just live to do this kind of thing!) I got to catch up with the folks I hadn't seen the night before, and hang out with Mom's 'unofficial' daughter Shannon (verse 13) and her family, which was really nice.
After a short delay hoping for the weather to clear, we headed out to the cemetery, Greenwood in Fort Worth. I hadn't been there since Granddad's funeral in 1975, when I was a wee pup. Grandma and Granddad's plot is right next to her parent's grave, and his parents are right over the hill. There's a few more of our kin scattered around. She'll be in good company.
It rained throughout the interment. It seemed somehow appropriate. There was just enough room under the canopy to get everyone in out of the rain, but it was a tight squeeze. We had a last few words, someone played a dreadful "contemporary Christian" song on a boombox, and then the preacher did the customary "dust thou art & to dust thou shalt return" routine as two of my uncles poured Grandma's ashes down the hole. We spent a few final minutes talking, and then people started to drift off, needing to catch a plane or go feed some hungry kids.
For whatever reason, I was the last one to get to my car, and as I fiddled with my cellphone to turn it back on, I looked up to find myself the only person remaining. As I drove off, I looked back over my shoulder and saw the empty canopy, the fabric-covered chairs and the collection of floral arrangements around the now-empty plinth. I got this terrible feeling that we were leaving too early. I brought the car to a halt, and just sat there for a while. It didn't seem OK to me. It's a cold, wet day, and we're all just driving off and leaving Grandma there all alone.
I debated going back to the gravesite and just keeping her company for a while. As I sat there, though, another thought wormed its way into my often-times rather thick head. We weren't leaving her there alone. She's among family now, and cold & wet has no meaning to her. For us, the living? We have said our goodbyes, the time for sitting with the dead is past. Time now to concentrate on the Gift of Life she has provided for us, and carry on with our lives. So, that thought in mind, I put the Caddy back in gear and left the cemetery. Some day I'll return, either with my sister's kids or perhaps even my own, and tell them all about the quiet yet kind old woman who devoted so much of her life to loving children.
That will be a gift worth giving.
posted by El Capitan | 3:36 PM
<< Home