I've been feeling pretty crazy lately. Yes, more than ever. Be afraid. Be very afraid! ;)
In this case, I think I've earned the right to feel crazy. Four human funerals between friends and family within a 12 month period justifies that, I think. [There have been animal funerals, as well.] I am not yet ready to talk about the big one, but here is the most positive one, if a death experience can be a positive experience. I think it can. A memorial is supposed to be a celebration of life. I think I witnessed that.
The passing of Maya Angelou reminded me of a more sane value structure based on people, and we have been blessed to have one of those in our own lives. I need to back up, though.
When family life got complicated, some new people stepped in to be admin in our main homeschool coop, so I could step down, and they even offered me an early leave with no guilt over the mess of paperwork I handed over. I received thanks for what I had done, even as I felt I was backing out prematurely. A few days later, a beloved aunt died. I had the freedom to fully enter into celebrating her life and mourning her loss without the guilt of admin responsibilities. It was such a gift, from both those that I had known a while, and some who I had just gotten to know. I was so touched!
I cried about our situation in coop. Yes, I am that scary open person. I received countless hugs and support and prayers and thoughts and juju - I'll take it all, so long as it's positive. I shared some of the yarn stash that Aunt Mary had left & was genuinely happy as people came by & thanked me & told me they were thinking of her in her final days. I smiled watching people select what they would use and knowing that it all would be used, and that more people would think of her in her final days and send positivity her way. Some stopped and offered words or a hug, and others did not. I appreciated all of it.
It didn't really feel like Aunt was gone as the family gathered in her home following the funeral. There were only a couple of the grandkids that are not already adults, but all the grandkids drifted to one room, and my young daughter was so kindly included and humored and enjoyed. . . I don't know the names of all the people in that generation, as some are so distantly related, but it was a gift to watch M drift in with them & try to fit in and be comfortable. It was a room full of iPhones, so she grabbed our iPad and joined the fun in her own fashion.
Being and introvert, and the newest family member of my generation (having known the deceased for only 15 years), I sat in a living room next to the grandkids' chosen hangout. In the room opposite the grandkids sat a very different group, including mostly people of the older generation and my own generation. It was calming and comforting to listen to them. There was laughter and sincere interchange. It was a somber occasion, but there was still significant laughter. Aunt would have liked that.
In the middle of that, her voice and smile were absent, but *she* didn't feel absent. Thinking about that, I realized that I sensed her spirit in the hearts and heads of so many in that house. She was still there. She will remain for a very long time in a very positive way. She invested herself in other people. I hope to be so lucky when I depart. Even at her funeral, she was inspiring and teaching. What an example!
A man of our generation who I know little, yet admire from every encounter, had been talking with M when I wasn't in earshot. He told me his impressions and gently probed for some information. This is something I am used to, and I was tired, so I did not react ideally at first. He looked surprised, and we both apologized, but were able to turn the mood of the talk. His parents were listening and not talking, which made me more self-conscious; I had not met them before. I ended up telling them a little bit, and he impressed me yet again. His reaction was to say "That must make you feel_____" and pinpoint where I live.
I don't remember that perfect word, of course, but he nailed it. He did so kindly. He really paid attention, and he really saw my daughter in his brief interchange with her. The more I thought about it, the more he impressed me. M will shut down when someone notices her differences and reacts even in subtle ways. She does not want to stick out. Not only did this man accept her for who she was, but he reacted with acceptance. She did not feel the need to hide her sparkle. I can understand why he was chosen by his equally amazing wife.
As we got ready to leave for our long drive home, our aunt's daughters escorted us into her bedroom, where they pulled out a quilt from a stack. My husband teared up at her handwriting on a note pinned to a quilt with our names on it. I cried, and could only say, "wow." M jumped and ran around the house with excitement. She had left her own memorial for many individuals and chosen which of her brand new quilts she wanted to leave to different people. It was so touching and perfect. I cannot imagine where she ever found the time to make so many. Ours is now on our queen size bed. Wow.
Since then, I think about her often. I have chosen to do and say some thing intentionally that I think she would have chosen and said herself. She remains a good example of how to live life well. She continues to improve my life and my daughter's, and we were the latest of each respective generation to the party that was her life. Such quiet power. Love.
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