No Weddings and a Funeral

Grandma’s funeral was on Saturday.  It started at eleven and was, as these things often are, a bit too long.  But it was very nice.  Nic and I were pallbearers along with my cousins and the guy who lives across the street from Grandpa.  The casket was not as heavy as I thought it might be.

Among other things, I heard the story of how Grandpa and Grandma met.  It was a nice little story.  They met at a square dance and she caught his eye.  A few weeks later, he saw her at a show at the auditorium and asked to take her home.  He had heard everyone call Great-Grandma “Ma,” so he said “Ma.  Can I take Ruthetta home.”  That was that.

Grandma sat in the middle of the house when we visited.  She was an empress to the family.  You could goof around all you wanted with Grandpa, but to upset Grandma was worse than murder.  I don’t recall anyone ever doing it.  She made sure the house was clean.  More importantly, she made sure the house was welcoming.  There are few places I have been as welcoming as my Grandparent’s house.  Little was off-limits to us growing up, we were free to explore the woods and fields in the back.

Most of my family was there.  The only cousin missing was Gail, and she had just been there a few weeks ago.  She lives in Panama with her husband, so it was a big thing for her to be able to make it up at all.  I know she would love to have seen us all.

I will miss Grandma.  And that’s the end of my feeling.  She died in the best circumstances, having lived a full life.  Grandpa held her hand when she went.  We had all said we loved her.  She is free of pain now, whatever has happened.

I will miss Grandma.

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