Ok, I admit it. I didn't write this entry on the 4th as the date would indicate. I started to. I even revisited this spot a few times. And then quickly left. Facebook was calling me...or perhaps it was one of my beloved children. Anything and everything has distracted me from writing about this day.
I filled the morning hours by diligently working on my lengthy to do list. Having been out of town since Friday left 3 days worth of calls, emails, and mail to respond to. It really is hard to explain all that is involved in cleaning up the neglected lives of two adults who can't give you even one little wee hint or glimpse into "what should be". I feel like an investigator these days.
I watched the clock to be sure not to miss my appointment at the local funeral home. Mike had come home for lunch as I was leaving. Since I hadn't given myself much time to dwell on the task before me- that of planning my grandparents funerals and burials- it quickly caught up to me. As I rummaged through the file box to locate my notes on the desired plans I intended to make, I felt a little woozy. No time for that. Fight it off, I thought. As I approached the front door, I lost the battle and so inconveniently got sick. I ran to the bathroom to splash some water on my face- I got sick AGAIN. From the kitchen, Mike shouted, "I'm thinking you shouldn't go do this right now." Trying to minimize the reality of the situation (otherwise known as DENIAL), I shrugged it off and replied, "I'm fine. This will pass." Oh so I prayed...and so I prayed.
After about 15 minutes of coaching myself to "get it together", I mustered up the energy to carry on! As I drove to the funeral home, I figured this upset stomach could actually benefit me. In my mind, I rationalized, perhaps if I am too busy worrying about not getting sick, I won't get emotional. My ticket...
Most of the meeting was accomplished with easy answers and choices. Others were more difficult. When I opted for the direct cremation, based on the wishes of my grandparents before they had Alzheimer's, I hesitated. DIRECT. What does that mean? Will I get to say good-bye? Will I get to stroke Etta's cheek once more? Smooth down James' hair? Would I want to? Or would I tremble at the mere suggestion of seeing them after they have passed? I took a deep breath, swallowed back the tears, and asked, "Will I get to see them...just once more?" To this I learned that I would "see them once more." That in fact, as their guardian, I would be required to identify them before they are cremated. Emotional conversation. I also felt a sense of pride that I would be with them through their very last on this earth.
Initially when it was time to pick out the headstone, I just wanted to pick something out and get it done. The more I looked, the more I thought. What would they like? What looks like their style? What would they pick if they were here today making these decisions? Asking myself those questions made this process a lot more difficult. I waffled back and forth on every single detail imaginable. Overwhelmed, I narrowed my selection down to one style with a zillion variations. I looked up at the funeral director, and also a family friend, and asked, "Please, will you make these final decisions of these little details?" Sensing my plea, he offered to create templates of the variations for me to select. I then realized I was at the peak of my decision making capabilities and graciously accepted his offer.
As I drove home, I reflected on the answer I was given...see them "once more". Really? Is that it? ONCE. MORE. Sadness was then replaced with HOPE as I claimed that which I live for...the promise that this time here on earth is just a speck of time compared to what awaits us as believers in Heaven. I can only pray that both James and Etta have that saving knowledge of Christ that will ensure that "once more" is really not accurate at all...there is so much more to come. James & Etta were once active members of their church but just like the rest of us battled with the issues of this world from time to time. I thank God that once saved, always saved...that no matter what has happened...no matter has been damaged or lost...salvation stays. I pray in the quiet moments in my grandparents days, perhaps when they don't have the words to even make sense, that they are having perfectly sensible conversations with God and that they can rest in His peace and comfort.
It was a rough assignment...but one I am glad I had the privilege to handle....
I filled the morning hours by diligently working on my lengthy to do list. Having been out of town since Friday left 3 days worth of calls, emails, and mail to respond to. It really is hard to explain all that is involved in cleaning up the neglected lives of two adults who can't give you even one little wee hint or glimpse into "what should be". I feel like an investigator these days.
I watched the clock to be sure not to miss my appointment at the local funeral home. Mike had come home for lunch as I was leaving. Since I hadn't given myself much time to dwell on the task before me- that of planning my grandparents funerals and burials- it quickly caught up to me. As I rummaged through the file box to locate my notes on the desired plans I intended to make, I felt a little woozy. No time for that. Fight it off, I thought. As I approached the front door, I lost the battle and so inconveniently got sick. I ran to the bathroom to splash some water on my face- I got sick AGAIN. From the kitchen, Mike shouted, "I'm thinking you shouldn't go do this right now." Trying to minimize the reality of the situation (otherwise known as DENIAL), I shrugged it off and replied, "I'm fine. This will pass." Oh so I prayed...and so I prayed.
After about 15 minutes of coaching myself to "get it together", I mustered up the energy to carry on! As I drove to the funeral home, I figured this upset stomach could actually benefit me. In my mind, I rationalized, perhaps if I am too busy worrying about not getting sick, I won't get emotional. My ticket...
Most of the meeting was accomplished with easy answers and choices. Others were more difficult. When I opted for the direct cremation, based on the wishes of my grandparents before they had Alzheimer's, I hesitated. DIRECT. What does that mean? Will I get to say good-bye? Will I get to stroke Etta's cheek once more? Smooth down James' hair? Would I want to? Or would I tremble at the mere suggestion of seeing them after they have passed? I took a deep breath, swallowed back the tears, and asked, "Will I get to see them...just once more?" To this I learned that I would "see them once more." That in fact, as their guardian, I would be required to identify them before they are cremated. Emotional conversation. I also felt a sense of pride that I would be with them through their very last on this earth.
Initially when it was time to pick out the headstone, I just wanted to pick something out and get it done. The more I looked, the more I thought. What would they like? What looks like their style? What would they pick if they were here today making these decisions? Asking myself those questions made this process a lot more difficult. I waffled back and forth on every single detail imaginable. Overwhelmed, I narrowed my selection down to one style with a zillion variations. I looked up at the funeral director, and also a family friend, and asked, "Please, will you make these final decisions of these little details?" Sensing my plea, he offered to create templates of the variations for me to select. I then realized I was at the peak of my decision making capabilities and graciously accepted his offer.
As I drove home, I reflected on the answer I was given...see them "once more". Really? Is that it? ONCE. MORE. Sadness was then replaced with HOPE as I claimed that which I live for...the promise that this time here on earth is just a speck of time compared to what awaits us as believers in Heaven. I can only pray that both James and Etta have that saving knowledge of Christ that will ensure that "once more" is really not accurate at all...there is so much more to come. James & Etta were once active members of their church but just like the rest of us battled with the issues of this world from time to time. I thank God that once saved, always saved...that no matter what has happened...no matter has been damaged or lost...salvation stays. I pray in the quiet moments in my grandparents days, perhaps when they don't have the words to even make sense, that they are having perfectly sensible conversations with God and that they can rest in His peace and comfort.
It was a rough assignment...but one I am glad I had the privilege to handle....