Grandma is resting now...

Wow, was this a tough day. My grandmother was laid to rest today.

It was one of those things. I really always felt that we were, well, distant from each other. But there she was, gone. And I started crying. I was struggling with never seeing her shoulders shake with laughter again. Or wave her finger at me when I got her with a zinger (we don't "spare the whip" in our family when it comes to giving gentle - and sometimes really harsh - zingers) - followed by a good laugh. Or tell me again about what it was like during the Great Depression - or WWII. Or just tell me what she had seen in her lifetime. She had that wisdom (raising 14 kids will either make you crazy or teach you a whole lot of stuff about life the universe and everything, and I don't think she was completely nuts).

And then I got under control, we did the whole Mass and procession back out of the church. Mom followed Grandma (I was a pallbearer, so I was ahead of her). We had stopped and moved Grandma off to the side so folks could pass by, say their condolences, etc. Mom had this confused/crying look on her face. I caught her eye and she just made a beeline for a hug. And she cried harder in my arms. And I cried again...I don't remember a feeling so helpless, but looking at my mom and wanting to just make her feel better, but there was little I could do but stand there and hug her (pardon the spelling errors here, I'm crying as I type this and struggling with blurring). Words - in this case - only feel (and sound) completely hollow, making my whole head hurt. How can I help her heal? I guess just be there for the hugs she'll need, listen to her.

It was stunning. I was standing there, looking around the entry to the church. All of my living aunts and uncles made it, from Germany even. And do you know what the absolute hardest part of this whole thing was for me? Looking at all of these people in my parents generation and watching them cry. I know this might sound like an overstatement, but these people were invincible when I was growing up. Even now, I'm smaller than all but one of the men that are my mother's brothers. And these women were the "tough love" givers when all of us cousins got together at my grandparents house. But these people didn't cry, it just didn't happen, EVER! I don't know if it was the competition between siblings for the little bit of love my Grandpa could give or what, but they just DID NOT CRY! And there were my aunt's. uncle's, and Mom boo hooing like I do when I'm hurt. This was very confusing to me...kind of turned my world backward...THEY are supposed to help ME (or my cousin's) when I'm hurt, not the other way around. I sure hope I'm up to the task of helping Mom...I can tell she's needing it more with Grandma - they were really tight.

(and my customary selfish note)

Seeing this, I so want to go and grab the hands of time and stop them. So I never have to feel that way...horribly selfish, I know, but I don't ever remember being this scared about it.