Author - Lorri

We left last week for my grandfather’s funeral.

The flight there was completely uneventful.  Pipsqueak was asleep before we even made it over the Rocky Mountains and didn’t wake up until we landed.  I won the seating lottery when I volunteered to sit next to him and Bip wanted to sit on the other side of me, leaving Philip to sit next to Sir Talks Alot.  Ha!

The funeral was a good one.  My mom asked me and Philip to do the readings and I chose to go first because I know better than to go after Phil.  Seriously, the guy has a deep, rich voice and he reads with great feeling.  I am an accomplished public speaker as well, but I’ve got nothing on Phil.  Voluntarily being the speaker after Phil is one of the classic blunders.

Now, normally I am fine with this.  My reading was one we used at Rebecca’s funeral and ends with “He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries him close to his heart.”  I was pretty confident I could make it through, in spite  of the association.  What I hadn’t counted on was the first song also being from Rebecca’s funeral and one that is very hard for us to get through on a normal day without at least tearing up .  And THEN  my mom delivered a very moving eulogy right before my reading.  I was shaky and choked up, but I took a deep breath and took my time.  All those years of public speaking and teaching and teaching people how to teach really paid off. I got all the way to the end, the “He gathers the lambs” part before my voice got shaky.  But I was OK.  No shame in showing emotion.

Phil, of course, was rock steady and he had people (including the priest) asking if he is a lector a home.  Grrr!

Boo was an altar server for the funeral.  He did a great job.  I was proud of him, as always.  Pumpkin Girl and Bip took up the gifts with the other great-grandson who is not mine.  Everyone got to participate, except Pipsqueak, who looked cute and then fell asleep.

After mass we went to the cemetery.  We saw a Navy guy saluting and finally realized that my grandfather was getting a military burial.  Taps, the folded flag presented to my grandmother, the whole bit.  It was wonderful to see him honored like that.

Then it was time to leave.  I hated that part with Rebecca.  Just turning around and walking away.  It is so…final.

The reception afterwards was at a seafood restaurant right on the harbor.  The food was great but seeing all my relatives was even better.  We had a DVD slide show of my grandfather which was so much fun.  His sisters brought a CD player and  played the song “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.”

I learned that my grandfather was the oldest of 8 children (I only remember his 3 sisters).  He returned to the Catholic Church after going on a pilgrimage to Medjugorje with my grandmother.  He really just went along to protect her.  He met Lou Holtz (coach of Notre Dame) on that trip (he was making the same pilgrimage) and demanded an explanation of his coaching decisions in the big game against USC!

Just so you know, he only has three grandchildren. 😉

We had a hard time leaving my grandparents house, we always do.  We feel loved and safe there.  But we did need to come home.

And now we are back.

My grandfather died yesterday. To say he has always been there in my life is like…no duh. But I mean he has always *been there* for me. I don’t like to think he no longer is.

When I was in kindergarten and first grade he used to make me bacon and egg sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and a paper towel for my school lunch. When I grew up, moved away and had kids of my own, he always told me he loved me and was proud of me. And I knew it. I just knew it.

He called me “mija”, pronounced “mee-ha”. It means “my little girl”. My kids and I called him Papa T. It’s short for Grandpa Tony.

He bought me a 49er Starter Jacket for my 16th birthday. Oh how I loved that jacket! I still have it. It was not a Super Bowl years for the 49ers, and he tucked a note into the pocket that said, “we’ll get ’em next year.”

Me, my grandpa and dad, 1988.

He passed away quietly, surrounded by family, in the home he’d lived in for longer than I’ve even been around.

And life goes on. Six hours later, Bip made his First Reconciliation. He asked to practice one more time before we left the house, just to make sure. He had a brief moment of panic as we walked up to the church when he thought he’d forgotten to make an examine of conscious. Then I reminded him that we had reviewed that together earlier in the week. He clung to my hand during most of the brief service beforehand, then lined up with his classmates to go get good with God.

When he had finished, he came skipping out, a broad smile lighting up his face. He was happy and lighter and filled with God’s goodness and grace. He skipped all the way out of church.

Bip, Clean and Shiny

We came home and we celebrated with ice cream, Bip’s choice. We celebrated Papa T, who always said ice cream is good for you because it’s made of milk! We celebrated Bip, who is starting down a new path in his Catholic faith.

Life is like that sometimes. Endings and beginnings are often intertwined. We celebrate what we have gained at the same time we mourn what was lost.

Sometimes our tears turn into dancing. God can be good like that.

The holidays can be a very painful time if you have lost a child.

There is a an emptiness that cannot be filled and these days of love and joy and togetherness just emphasize that hole in your heart.

I have a sign like the one above,but I haven’t hung it since Christmas 2003. I think about it every year, wondering if this is the year. No, not this year. This year it stays in the closet.

2012 might be the year. I think I might just be able to put it out, next to the Nativity scene, on Rebecca’s birthday – December 22nd. We’ll see.

December 9th is the Annual Worldwide Candle Lighting to honor and remember the children who have died. By lighting a candle for one hour at 7 PM, your local time, we can create a 24 wave of light. Will you join me this year? Pray for those family whose grief is new this year as well as for those whose hearts at heavy at the thought of yet another holiday without their child. It doesn’t get easier, really. You just learn how to cope.