Have a "Funeral Moment"

At the end of my second year of university my grandparents came down to stay with me in Regina, because the aunt and uncle I lived with at the time were going away on holidays for a few weeks. These are the grandparents that I had spent much of my pre-school years with and whom mean a lot to me... I mean a lot. I don't know if it's just the perception children have about grandparents and other "older" people, but I always worried about when my grandparents were going to die. They just seemed "old". And, yet, looking back at certain memories (like their 45th "ruby" anniversary where we had a picnic in our backyard and they wore "ruby"-coloured matching bunny hugs) they were really just a bit older than my parents are now -- and my parents don't seem old at all. So, even though my grandparents were not very old, in my youthful opinion they were always on the verge of death. I was convinced that they wouldn't see me get married -- but granny winked at me when I reached the altar, and grandpa actually lead us in the exchanging of our rings. Well, after that I was sure they wouldn't make it to see my children -- but Madeline does indeed know and love her "bestamore" (the Norwegian name that I called my great granny) and Luke has stolen the heart of both of them. Anyways, all of that to say that growing up I was always afraid of what my life would be like and how much I would miss my mom's parents when they were gone.

All of that came to a head on one of the nights that granny and grandpa were staying with me in Regina. Grandpa had been to a Sunday evening church service and had just come into the bedroom where granny and I were laying in bed watching tv together. Grandpa took his sport coat off and came and sat down on the bed and we chatted for a bit. I looked at their faces and was just so happy to be in that moment, to have them there all snugly and close. And then I started crying. I don't think they knew what was going on. So, I told them. I told them how much I loved them. How much they meant to me. How much I didn't want them to die. And how much -- how indescribably much -- I was going to miss them when they died. I just got it all out. They were not quite as shaken up over it all as I was, and they reassured me that they were not going to die (well... anytime soon anyways), and that they loved me very much. Then we all hugged, had a bit more of a cry, and grandpa probably lead us in a little "huddle prayer", like he always does. And that was that. We knew how we felt about each other. We knew the inevitability of death and we knew that, though it would some day separate us, we had loved while it lasted (and that someday we'd be together again).

I told Marc about this shortly after, and I don't think he really "got it" -- at least in regards to grandparents. He was never close with any of his grandparents, either because of death or proximity. And I was never really close with my dad's parents (grandpa died when I was just 5 and grandma when I was 11) -- though I do have certain clear memories of my grandpa and I did have some great times with Grandma Dynna in Weldon. In some ways it's nice that I don't have the same "pangs" about their death as I will when my mom's parents die. It's nice not to hurt, you know? But at the same time, you have the deep hurt because you've had a closer relationship and a deeper love... and that is always worth it.

So, today think of someone that you love and have a "funeral moment" with them. Tell them the things you'll want to say but won't be able to tell them when they're gone. Tell them how much you love them and how much they mean to you. Get it all out. Every time I think about my grandparents dying, I think of that moment at my aunt and uncle's house, and I have peace, because I know that we all knew (and still know) how much our relationship meant. And even more than just the funeral moment, make relationships that count -- that will bring the big hurt of separation, because it's made of the big love. After all, if that's not what life's all about, I don't know what it's for.