…something to live up to…

I know this post is way, WAY overdue. So overdue, in fact, that I've toyed with the idea of shutting the blog down all together. For a long time, I didn't feel like writing…mostly because I knew this post needed to be written before I talked about anything else. It just seems right. At first I didn't know what I'd say, and once I did, I wasn't sure I could muster the strength to say it. Nevertheless, I suppose it's time.

It was the morning of Thanksgiving. Mom and Dad and my baby brother had driven to Nashville to spend the holiday with DG and his family and me. We had a weekend jam-packed with festivities planned for them. I was excited. It had been a mere six hours since they'd arrived, and we were up with the sun to run in a 5k race benefitting Habitat for Humanity. Part of our evil plot to improve the overall health of our families and get in shape for the wedding. We were just about to walk out the door when Dad's pocket started singing. Always his goofy self, Dad started dancing to the music and announced that someone's phone was ringing. Somehow, the man still cannot recognize the sound of his own cell phone. Oh Dad. When we informed him that the sound was coming from his pants, he quickly answered his phone.

We watched as panic fell over his face. In an instant the light-hearted air vanished. He just kept repeating, "Oh no. Oh my. Oh no." When he hung up, he told us it was his younger brother calling. Grandma had just passed away. We sat at the kitchen table as the news sank in. A few minutes later, my uncle called again with news that the paramedics had managed to get her heart started again, but she'd been without oxygen for a really long time. They were taking her to the ER, but things did not look good.

Mom and Dad scrambled to pack up all the things they'd unloaded only six hours earlier to head back home. DG pulled me aside to see if I wanted to go with them. I said yes. We'd figure out the rest later on. As soon as we had our things together, we were on the road headed back home. Over the course of that eight hour trip, there was a wealth of emotion. I couldn't even begin to explain the way we all felt that day. There were a lot of back-and-forth conversations about taking her off the respirator and when was the right time to do it. Grandpa had made the decision to disconnect her, and Dad encouraged him to go ahead, rather than drawing it out waiting on us to get there. The doctors said she'd be unable to breathe on her own and that she'd be gone in three to five minutes. By the time we arrived at her room in the ICU, she'd been breathing on her own for hours. Everyone said she'd been waiting for us to come home. I stayed for a while…watched her lying there unconscious, gasping and convulsing from the muscle spasms. She was already gone, and we knew it was only a matter of time.

Grandma waited until everyone was sleeping peacefully in the night before she died. Dad had stayed with her, so we got the phone call shortly after she'd finally stopped breathing. My family banded together in support of Grandpa and each other in a way that one could only hope to witness…much less feel. It was no surprise to me. I am blessed to call them mine. So much of who she was is infused in each of us. We did right by her in taking care of each other. It was hard to say goodbye, even harder to watch Grandpa suffer the pain of putting his life-long love to rest, but there was still lots to be grateful for….especially my incredible fiancé. DG came to be with me a day later and found a way to stay through the whole ordeal. I was hard on him at first, but he was amazing and patient as usual. I don't even want to think about what that week would have been like without him. I was completely overcome by the ways we found ourselves growing closer through the experience.

Come April, Grandma and Grandpa would have been married 62 years. To the day she died, they loved each other faithfully and completely. It was fascinating to watch how their love changed as they grew older and began having to take care of each other in a more tangible sort of way. They were still holding hands in their eighties. That always made an impression on me. I loved it. There is a lot to learn from their relationship and it is not hard to find the mark that she left on my life. It seems that words don't really do her justice, but I did have the privilege of writing and singing a song for her funeral. Even now, I miss her. She was full of life, and the absence of that spark is deeply felt. Here's what I had to say when it was fresh…

I always felt like Grandma and I had a special connection. Then again, I’m pretty sure most every one of us would say the same. I practically grew up in her living room. Up until I was old enough to drive, she and Grandpa carted me back and forth from school each day. I never grew tired of spending time at their house because Grandma and I never ran out of interesting things to talk about. She was funny and vibrant and full of life. It seems like she was always teaching me something. Her impact on the people we’ve all become is immeasurable, and it would be impossible to summarize all of the lessons I’ve learned from her. She was always imparting her words of wisdom, usually in the form of some clever little saying…and they stuck with me.

One particular summer, Grandma and Grandpa joined us on our family vacation to the booming metropolis of Branson, Missouri. Convinced I was already a teenager at the age of twelve, I was less than thrilled about our destination. Grandma called me “twelve-teen” for that entire year. It sounds about as ridiculous as I acted. Somehow she had more patience with me than anyone else. I spent most of our vacation complaining. Groaning about the plans we’d made or whining when we didn’t choose the restaurant I wanted. Mom and Dad were irritated with my bad attitude, as any parent would be, but Grandma would just put her arm around me, lean in and quietly say, “When in Rome, we do what the Romans do.” She was trying to keep me out of trouble. I must have heard that phrase ten times a day during that week. Every time I’d roll my eyes, she’d give me that knowing glance and remind me, “When in Rome.” Each time I’d begin to spread my misery…”When in Rome.” It seemed silly to me at the time, but I learned a vital lesson from her about accommodating the people you love. If nothing else, she was accommodating. Always serving her family. Always making sure they were taken care of and had plenty to eat. She spent a life time nurturing the people she loved. I was privileged enough to learn that lesson from her.

Her absence will leave a huge void in the life of our family, but her life continues in the way she taught us how to love each other. As I grow into a wife, and someday a mother, I know that I will often go back to those conversations we shared. Her cute little sayings will repeat in my mind, and I know that I am more because of the way she touched me. We all are. My only hope is that I can live up to her legacy…to do right by her…love the people around me in a way that is true to what she taught…and live a life she would be proud of.

WHEN IN ROME

Her words of wisdom echo in my mind
She shakes her head confesses, “such is life.”
Knowing the road is hard with many winding turns
Yet knowing that love survives in the lessons we learn

Molding us, Shaping us
Into who we’d become
We’re forever changed by her way
Of loving us
Now that you’re going home
We’ll remember what you spoke
And I hope I make you proud
When in Rome

No words to describe what you’ve done
Your imprint on the lives of each one
You taught us to hold heads high when we don’t know what to do
And trust in the Savior’s hand to safely carry us through

Molding us, Shaping us
Into who we’d become
We’re forever changed by her way
Of loving us
Now that you’re going home
We’ll remember what you spoke
And I hope I make you proud

As we sing, All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me

She was molding us, Shaping us
Into who we’d become
We’re forever changed by her way
Of loving us
Now that you’re going home
We’ll remember what you spoke
And I hope I make you proud
Yes, I hope I make you proud
When in Rome