Saturday afternoon I stood on the cemetery lawn while my family all headed back to their cars.
The viewing was over. The funeral was over. The processional was over. The graveside service was over.
But there it was…the carved casket…the object that now held the tabernacle that was home to my grandfathers spirit for almost 90 years…and it was all alone.
For the record I held it together at the viewing. I held it together as I slipped one last letter for him into the casket. And by what I can only call a miracle I held it together during my speech at his funeral. But then…standing there…oh heaven help me…I couldn’t leave him alone and I couldn’t hold it together anymore.
How could I just leave?
I couldn’t.
Not like this.
The man who taught me to drive, plant a garden , read a map, strike a match, order at a restaurant, use a ruler, open a soda can, use a camera, make homemade spaghetti sauce and a million other things…I couldn’t leave him alone. I couldn’t do it. And in my heart I knew that man…the man who bought me my first sketch book and ALWAYS encouraged my artwork, the man who every single time I failed assured me it was only because “I was ahead of my time”, the man who spent the last 40 years as my champion…he wouldn’t have left me all alone either. He would have waited with me until the end.
And so I stayed.
And my husband understood. Without a word he piled the kids into car and returned a few minutes later followed by the man driving the truck with the crane that would return my grandfather’s body back to the earth.
The man explained it wasn’t customary for family to be there while he performed his job. I explained to him that my sister (who stayed by my side) and I couldn’t leave until we knew our grandpa’s body was safely laid to rest. He looked uneasy but our husbands reassured the man we wouldn’t interfere with the process and the man began to be about his work.
And thus I spent a strange and interesting hour at the cemetery.
In that hour the man shared with us some fascinating facts and I learned a lot about the burial process. But during that hour without realizing it I was given one last gift by my grandfather. You see my grandpa has always, above all, wanted me to be alert to what is going on around me…to watch, learn, understand, document and then pass it on…a skill set that he not only lived but ingrained in my heart. Watch, learn, understand, document, and pass it on.
And as I stood in a field thick with the heritage of my ancestors…surrounded by my great grandparents and great great grandparents…I was given the golden opportunity to quietly and simply talk with my own children about life and death…about saying goodbye…about what is important…about my faith…and then to learn along with them as we saw firsthand how we bury our dead.
Even in death my grandpa was giving me the chance to not only continue learning but to teach my children what he had always taught me…watch, learn, understand, document, and pass it on.
As strange as it may sound it was such a sweet experience….one that I will never forget. And when it was over I was ok to leave.
This is the last photograph I have of me and my grandpa:
It was taken the evening before he passed away.
I didn’t think about it at the time but now as I look at the photo it feels like he is passing me the torch…giving me the chance to pick up where he left off…watching, learning, understanding, documenting, and passing it on..and in the process teaching my children to do the same. And I will try…I will try to do my best.
Oh grandpa…how much do I love you? How much am I indebted to you? How much will I miss you? Indeed, how lucky am I to have had something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
-liZ
You gave yourself a great gift, that of letting go at your pace
Beautifully written (as always) and the photo of you and your grandfather holding hands made the tears start pouring. I was doing good until then! You are such a teacher and the best kind I suspect. I can tell by the stories you share of your kids/family/escapades. He taught you well.
What a truly wonderful gift you had in your grandfather. I was never really close to my grandparents. My mothers lived in Germany and my fathers parents weren’t that interested. When I got married I was worried about my kids having a great set of grandparents as both my parents are toxic. My in laws have been fantastic grandparents and like your grandfather have taught my kids many things. So hopefully my children will look back at their grandparents as you do.
liZ ~ so sorry for your loss, but so nice you have something happy to hang onto. Will be thinking of you in the coming days and weeks.
watching, learning, understanding, documenting, and passing it on What wonderful life lessons from a giving spirit. I only hope my grandchildren remember me this way. Beautifully written.
Deborah @ Sew Much To Give
Oh liZ, my heart. I am so glad you had someone so incredible to teach you.
WHen my husband’s father was buried, he had a Jewish fineral. It was beautiful.
His immediate family actually buried him. That was part of the ritual. The ceremony. They each shoveled the dirt until it was gone. It felt final. It felt like it was OK to leave afterward. There is something so complete about that. Walking away from an empty hole never seemed right to me, even though that is how people from my family were traditionally buried. It always seemed to encourage an emptiness in my heart that could not ever be filled.
I am glad you got to be part of that process. I hope your heart is able fill the hole with beautiful memories of him, always.
I can so completely understand. I live next door to my grandparents and I feel so blessed to have this chance – that even my children get to know their great grandparents. No one can ever take their place. We are Muslim and it is the family which buries the dead after the prayer service. After the body is lowered into the grave, the shroud is momentarily moved away from the face, so that loved ones get a final glimpse. Then it’s carefully covered up and the grave filled up. And we leave with a a prayer and the hope that we will be reunited in Paradise. Ameen.
Love from India,
Shireen
Very sorry for you loss, liZ. You will always have the wonderful memories of time spent together and by the sounds of it, the many things he taught you.
Aren’t we so lucky. Some of the lucky few who get to share our grandparents with our children. My grand mother passed away almost two years ago and my grandfather is still alive and they both lived down the street from us for most of my kids life. I feel so blessed. That my children have really known these two amazing people.
wow. beautiful post – thank you.
I’m showing this to my pastor husband. You just preached a powerful sermon to us who were blessed to read this. Thank you. So like me to want to not leave until I know they have been truly taken care of for the next journey. I was blessed to be able to be the one that stayed and held my two younger brothers as they took their last breaths. Hard…..yes….so hard….but such a gift I could give to them.
I have always done that–gone back, waited to be sure our loved ones are “taken care of”, and thanked those who do such an anonymous task. For me it has been a private role, but has felt also like a sacred responsibility, too. When I leave the cemetery, I know my loved one is tended to. Every earthly thing we can do for them has been taken care of, and I feel as if it is okay to go. Thank you for sharing your story; the next time I wait, I will know I’m not the only one who feels that calling.