In Memory of Grandma Jean

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love, is Hell." - C.S. Lewis

We returned home to Ohio this weekend for my Grandma Jean’s funeral. She died as a result of a car accident in North Carolina, as she and her husband Glen were on their way to Florida from Pennsylvania. It was not their fault. The loss is devastating, frankly, and I miss my grandmother very much, even more than I imagined I would.

Of course, it’s always nice to be home with my family. My siblings returned home as well, and we were blessed in numerous ways. We spent a lot of time together, we received many good wishes, and people in the church made us enough food to last for a month. I really don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that. We were so blessed to not have to worry about anything except logistics of the funeral.

It’s such a blessing to be together. I love my family, with all of our quirky energy. We went to a Phil Keaggy concert at church on Sunday night, and that man is truly a blessing. We met him after the concert, and we learned that he, around age 25, lost his mother in a car accident. We were blessed to have him pray for us, as he surely knew the pain of what we were feeling.

Many people do know that pain. Most, in fact, in some form, know the sting of death. The severe mercy. I do believe God was merciful in bringing my grandmother to heaven, joining my grandfather. I’m grateful she did not suffer any longer on earth, enduring the results of the accident. But oh, how I miss her.

Many times when I’ve written this blog, I’ve done so particularly for Grandma Jean, so she could know what we were up to. I will continue to write with her in mind. Below is what I said at her funeral. I can’t wait to see her again.

“My dog Lizzie almost died this past year. It was a difficult time for me because I had not experienced deep, gut-wrenching grief in a very long time. Little did I know that the Lord was emotionally preparing me for the death of my beloved grandmother.

While I was dealing with the consequences of Lizzie’s illness, I spoke to a lot of people about how I felt. But the person that I most looked forward to speaking with was Grandma Jean. Grandma called me on the phone every other week for probably the last 8.5 years, since I left home for college. I will really miss those phone calls.

Grandma understood how I felt about Lizzie. She cried with me about the seeming inevitability of Lizzie’s death. She talked to me about the difficulties of life, about loss, and about challenging times. She told me how she felt when Grandpa died, and how she understood what I was feeling. Even though I was just crying about a dog, she never made me feel bad or silly. She just understood, and she was there for me. Grandma offered wisdom from a long life well-lived, but she never forced her perspective upon anyone. She just listened, and offered advice from her own experiences. I loved talking with her and hearing about how her experiences.

During my time living far from home, I’ve often wished that I could be closer to family. But I am realizing how easy it is to take for granted the people who are with you daily. Grandma’s phone calls made me feel closer to her than living in Youngstown, Ohio, and I will deeply miss the connection we had. She never forgot when I had a big project coming up, a busy week, or a neat trip. She always wanted to know about Taylor, she wanted to know about the weather, and she wanted to know about Lizzie.

Grandma is with the Lord, and my Grandpa, today in heaven. And while I rejoice in that, I will always miss her presence, her constant care, and the telephone calls that I had come to count on.”