Remembrances

 “My grandmother was always cooking.  She loved to feed us.  She made sure that there was plenty of food in the house.  When my friends came home with me, she would always feed them.  I remember how she used to make our breakfasts.  She would make fried rice and frankfurters for us.”  Such was the tribute to a loved grandmother in the memorial service celebrating her life.

“My sister Wanda was a couple of years older than I. With five children in the family, we always had loads of laundry.  At one time in our young lives, my mother had drafted us to help with the laundry.  Wanda devised an ingenious way to do ironing.  We would take turns ironing.  When I ironed, she read books to me, and when it was her turn to iron, I would read.  This way we got a lot of ironing done and a lot of books read.  She taught me how to read.”  A sister, Virginia Taylor, recalled in loving memory of her older sister who had recently passed away.

“I remember how one day as I sat in the cafeteria in school, I found out I had forgotten my lunch at home.  I panicked.  I wouldn’t have lunch,” the adult son of my friend was telling a story about his dad during his memorial service.  His voice started to break as he continued, “Then suddenly, my dad appeared walking towards me with my lunchbox in his hand.  I couldn’t believe he left work to bring me my lunch.”

As a former pastor’s wife I have attended quite a few memorials and funerals.  I have listened to many an obituary and tribute.  I must admit to some self-centeredness here as sometimes I wonder what would be said of me when I am gone.  I have my fears, so I have asked my husband not to have any tributes or sharing time about my life during my funeral.

Those of us who are in the winter of our lives often look back and see where and how we have been. Often we regret that we have not done better.  However, it never ceases to amaze me that most of the memorial and funeral stories I hear have been about little things that most people wouldn’t think mattered. Some think of success in terms of how far they get in their careers, how much wealth they accumulate or how many academic degrees they have after their names - things that sometimes distance or distract us from those we love the most.  A grandson’s remembrance of his grandmother’s fried rice and frankfurters breakfast, a sister’s reading while sharing an ironing chore with an older sister, a father’s taking time from his work to bring a son’s forgotten lunch to his school – little things but meaningful remembrances because they connect rather than distance.

My husband’s mother passed away two days ago.  Her granddaughter, Kristy Inez Major writes:

This is my grandma, Nila Major. When I was little, she taught me about Avon, Pepsi in the bottle, and how to paint my nails. More recently, she's taught me about quiet, enduring strength and childlike joy. I'm thankful for her and what she has written on the world. We miss you already, Grandma!

                                                           Nila Inez Major  1925-2013

Mom Major, one of the most beautiful (and not only physically, though she was, too) human beings I've ever known.  I cannot thank her enough for raising such an exceptional man for me.