It is Friday but it’s not morning and I’m not drinking coffee.
This morning I was at my Great Aunt’s funeral. The term Great Aunt seems so far removed and I guess, in a way, she was. In life we become so busy with our own nuclear families that our more distant relatives (in the next town over) sometimes fall by the wayside. Well, not really them, but the relationships.
Christmas cards. Family reunions. Funerals.
I knew I had to attend this funeral because she was my Grandma’s sister and my Grandma, oh, we miss her so much. (and her apple cake and her jokes…)
I sat in the parking lot of the church today, Eli in the back and felt my heart race. I feared songs being sung that would send me spiraling back to James and Jake’s memorial service. When choosing their songs, I chose ones that I loved, not really thinking that in the future they would propel me into sadness whenever I hear them in the future.
They don’t tell you these things. Which is good because being propelled into sadness isn’t always a bad thing.
I’m feeling a lot of hurt in my heart today. My all time favorite teacher passed away on Wednesday. He taught me and my five brothers and sisters. He also taught my Dad when he was in high school. He was my Spanish teacher for three years straight and impacted my life greatly.
I remember he would stand at the front of the class, leaning against his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest and he’d chuckle quietly and say “idiotas.” When he did that, I knew he was in a good mood.
I graduated with his son. His son was in my class those three years. Recently, thanks to social media, we’ve reconnected and it was him that told me about the death of his Dad, my teacher. My friend, lost a baby a few months ago. I’m so worried about his heart right now.
My Great Aunt, many years ago, lost a baby girl at birth. About ten years ago, my Great Aunt had a dream that she was in a fierce storm through great winds as she held a baby in her arms. After the storm passed, the could not find the baby. She finally did and when she did there was golden light and peace.
(that’s what it feels like when you lose someone you love, you are holding on for dear life, sometimes without even realizing it, but something bigger and stronger than you, rips that someone out of your arms.)
She awoke from that dream no longer afraid to die because she knew she would hold her daughter in her arms again.
I think about my Spanish teacher, holding his grandson in his arms, chuckling at his soft baby cheeks and saying something affectionate in Spanish, maybe “precioso.”
I’m thinking about my Grandma right now, holding James and Jake in her arms and rejoicing that finally, her sister and her niece are together, after all these years.
And that’s how I’m finding my peace today.