We said goodbye to Deda last weekend. This post is super long and is full of the many thoughts I’ve had while laying awake at night lately. Writing is what I do to clear my mind and I thought about not posting it, but I want to remember, so here it is. I suppose I write this more for myself than anything, but you are welcome into my reflections if you’d like. There are no pictures, however, since the time was chaotic and emotional and I neglected to take any.
Friday night was Deda’s viewing. The first two hours were open casket time for the family. I was worried about taking Josiah since he seemed to understand what we told him about Deda going to be with Jesus in heaven and no longer being with us. I didn’t want to confuse him by showing him a body, so we went late and he stayed in the lobby with his daddy at first. However, after going in I saw that I hardly could even recognize Deda. He looked so sick, pale, and old. It made me sad to see, yet content to know that he passed at just the right time. I knew Josiah wouldn’t recognize who he was so he got to join the family and did well.
The next 3 hours were closed casket and open to all. It was only supposed to be 2 hours, but it took 3 for everyone that came to get a chance to come in and pay their respects. I have no idea how many people came, but I’d guestimate 200, including one of our Gainesville friends that didn’t even know Deda. Deda touched so many lives! I hope when I’m old I don't just sit home and get older, but instead use that time to be active and be with people. In fact, Gram and Deda are so loved, that from the time I can remember being at their house growing up, they very frequently had people drop by just to see them.
For the funeral, there were lots of people again and most of them came over to the house afterwards for lunch (there was LOTS of food!) and visiting. It was a graveside service and was quite hot, but thankfully the cemetery is covered with live oak trees. There was a time when people were invited to the podium to speak. Such wonderful things were said – all true. My cousin by marriage, who is not technically Deda’s granddaughter, spoke of how she and her sister were taken in and loved as though they were granddaughters and how it was Deda and Gram who got them involved in church. (There is actually a great story there with lots more to it, but this is not the place for it.) Someone else that I don't even know got up and talked about how she had always rejected God, but was saved just by them taking her in. She said Deda never pushed her about God, but over time she just grew to want what he had, she told him so and he helped her find it! She referred to him as “Uncle Bill” though she is not family at all. The preacher also spoke about how the first time he came to visit Deda they went outside so that Deda could show him his fish “pond” (a pool with fish in it) and with tears in his eyes, Deda got to talking to the preacher about when he first started tithing and how faithful God had been to them in response. The preacher was laughing saying NO ONE ever broaches that subject with him and especially not as a first conversation! But that was Deda. He was so impressed with how God had taken him from nothingness to having more than he needed and he was happy to share the testimony and give God the glory.
My emotions have been all over the place. Anywhere from being on task to do what needs to be done to being so sad that a big part of my life has ended and that my kids will miss out on him. But my emotional/sentimental side has caught up with my practical side as time progresses. This weekend I shed tears as I heard Gram say goodbye to Deda (using that term of endearment) in his closed casket at the end of the viewing, followed by the firefighter in his dress uniform paying his last respects in a salute, turning on his heels, and marching off. (I’m sure I used all the wrong terminology to explain that!) It just seemed so final. This might sound so morbid, but it saddened me to shut the door on him forever especially since he got so claustrophobic in the end. And then to put him in the ground….. At the service the solemness of the uniformed firefighters, bagpipes, and Gram getting his fire helmet and a medal presented to her, followed by family placing roses and seeing the tears of the men in my family was tough. Gram, being the tough cookie that she is, held it all together. She is so strong. She spent Friday night on her feet greeting EVERY guest with such graciousness and was so hospitable Saturday, though I’m sure she will have her private moments of grief in the days, weeks, and months to come.
My brother, his wife and son, Jacob, our boys, and I stayed over at Gram’s both nights. Again, Gram was so gracious giving up her bedroom so that our families could have nice accommodations while she slept on a mattress on the floor, which she insisted upon. When we left her Sunday somehow it just seemed so final. I felt sad leaving her alone, but I know she enjoyed our company. I asked her what her plans are and she has a long to do list for herself already before she returns to work full time next month. She had retired, but when she called the post office to tell them of Deda’s passing her boss said he’d love to have her back and that he hadn’t submitted her paperwork yet if she’d like to come back. I don’t think she even thought about it before eagerly agreeing. I’m probably the only person with a 75 year old grandmother who does hard work simply because she wants to.
On a different note, when my brother, Caleb, and his family were driving down for the funeral on the interstate, they were rear ended going just below 80 mph! It is a blessing they are ok.
Also, at least one good thing has already come from the funeral. A woman who lives in a travel trailer on Gram and Deda’s property until she can get her feet back on the ground after some hard times (yet another soul my grandparents have been gracious to) liked the preacher who did the service and wants to go to church with Gram on Sunday! Praise God!
When I think of what I will miss of Deda, so many memories flood my mind. I think of how before he lost the use of his arms he used to pull me to him tightly, give me a big sloppy wet kiss, and tell me how much he loved me with tears in his eyes. I remember roughhousing with him as kids yet him being gentle enough to fix my hair or pull a splinter from my finger. There were bonfires, marshmellow and hot dog roasts and lots of popsicles, though Gram had lots to do with the food part :) He also put an emphasis on education and put his money where his mouth was to support it (and him being a very intelligent man with a GED). But most of all, I loved how he loved my husband as one of his own and when my boys were born, he loved them, too. Then there was my annoyance of him telling me exactly how to do the most basic tasks, but that was Deda and I loved him! I always wanted him to be proud of me and I think he was.
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