EdelWeiss: "Life is Worth the Living Just Because He Lives"

August 19th I said goodbye to my Nana. Well actually I suppose I said goodbye earlier that year, March 2015. But we had communicated since then. August 19th she had a massive stroke. Her body wanted to recover and press on living, but her mind did not. She slept for 5 days and I have full confidence that her soul went to meet her maker on August 24th.

I had a terrible week leading up to her death. I had taken on 60 hours of work in 7 days, committed to a few extra activities I normally don't commit to, booked flights for me to fly home alone with the kiddos, prepared 3 songs for the funeral, did a LOT of crying (I am not one who runs out of tears) and the night before we flew home began packing at 11pm...only to wake up at 5am to catch a flight to Iowa. And of course in the midst of those things my nana had died.

Death sucks. It's a hard pill to swallow. Weather baby was 6 weeks in utero or a woman 99 years old...its a life...and a loss...and it must be grieved. Now everyone does this differently...so differently in fact that people almost never say the "right" thing to a person suffering a loss. But we are inherently good human beings--designed in God's image--so we do our best to support one another.

I must say I was showered with love and affection and support and blessing, THANK YOU for checking in, sending cards, texts, emails and phone calls. Knowing that my family was in the thoughts and prayers of my closest friends was a blessing to me. Thank you!

Funerals are great. In my opinion. They bring such closure to a traumatic event. It's a time to say goodbye, celebrate life, reflect on wonderful memories and prepare for the difficult days, weeks, months, years ahead. It depends on the loss and the person left behind. So, flying home and being with my ENTIRE family (minus Joshua, Zola & Piper who I believe showed sacrificial love by staying home) was needed. We held hands and all said goodbye together (I mean, not literally). I am so glad I had the week following her death to be in the same physical proximity as my family members.

There's one thing I realized about myself that I will note more intentionally in the future. I need to say goodbye. Actually say it. Not in a "hey I realize you could go at any time so I'm not getting my hopes up to see you again" (can you imagine...that would be stupid and awful!) but in a "I need you to know that I love you, cherish you and my life has been impacted by watching yours" sort of goodbye. I composed a lengthy letter to my Grandpa and read it to him while he was laying on his death bed (even though at the time we didn't know that was the end). Speaking those words to him helped a great deal in my personal journey of grief. I didn't speak those same words to Nana, and I'm still really struggling with that. So, I had started a letter to her before she passed....hoping I would get to read it to her on her 100th birthday. I was advised to finish it...so I did.

Dear Nana,

100 years!! What a thrilling number! I marvel at the experience you've had since 1915...all that you've seen, all that you've done, all the people you have loved. Pre-WWI, pre-Titanic tragedy, pre-motorized vehicles, planes...you have evolved with a quickly changing world and have done so with grace & poise beyond what most could undertake. You've been a daughter, a sister, a friend, a wife, a mother, an aunt, a grandmother, a great-grandmother and a great-great-grandmother. I cherish that we have 5 living generations.

Nana, I must share with you the impact your life has had on my spirit. You have influenced my thoughts and my actions and have modeled some of the key life lessons I yearn to mature into understanding. When I think about you, I find myself holding onto these words:

Balanced. I don't think a woman lives to be 100 without having an incredible capacity for balance. You don't indulge or deprive. In fact, I chose the word "balance" as my "word" for 2014 (yes...I have a yearly "word"...you'll have to excuse the nerd in me) in your honor. Whether it is food, exercise, cleaning, cooking, spending, saving, talking, listening, reading, watching, observing, sharing...you simply appear to be in harmony with life, relationships & Christ. Please teach us all how to have more hope and less stress. I might add that you aren't completely balanced. You love and you pray...whole-heartedly. Thank you for loving unconditionally and being committed to praying for me, my husband and my children.

(you can tell I finished the letter after her death as I moved from present tense to past tense...)

Strong. Goodness by the time you had reached age 20 you had been through real trials. You had mourned the loss of your father, given birth to a baby that lived only 2 short days and were in the midst of helping your husband work through a severe illness. I suppose God gives us strength to endure at the time it is needed but He certainly sustained you through some difficult times.

Refined. The dictionary defines "Refined" as: To become pure, fine, elegant or polished; to make fine distinctions in thought or language. I believe the older you grew, you became exceedingly more polished, elegant, creative, distinct, lovely. You had a firm grasp on our changing world and rather than being confused, frustrated, melancholy...you embraced it and chose to see the beauty of allowing oneself to evolve through life. You held tight to the promises of Christ and chose to cast your cares upon Him.

Thank you for being a model of a saintly woman in my life. I love you, I cherish the times we spent chatting...the times you spent listening to me go on about my own "struggles" and joys...the many times you partook in humor...sometimes at your own expense...and the life lessons I will take with me as I continue my own journey of living a long and fulfilling life.

With deepest love,
Tricia

PS--I don't' think I quite understood just how much you loved chocolate until your funeral. I've always wondered why I prefer chocolate over any other food and now I know it is hereditary! A dear friend once bought me an ornament that read: "I'd give up chocolate...but I'm no quitter!" I wish I would have shared that with you. ;)

It feels good to write that. It feels good to publish it. I hope maybe it blesses you, even a little bit.