Monday, November 29, 2010

A Time to Mourn

My Mama called this morning with the sad news that my paternal grandmother, whom we all called Mam-ma (it's an east Tennessee thing), passed away last night.  My immediate reaction was, "Oh no!" and tears, which alarmed the girls greatly.  But the truth is that blessings abound.

She'd lived in a nursing home for several years, beset with Alzheimer's and Parkinson's, and she slept most of the time.  She'd been a widow for 41 years, and all but one of her siblings predeceased her.  Imagine the reunion!  Finally, her passing seemed peaceful; there were no signs of distress. 

She had been absent from my life for years due to her illnesses, and it was a slow disappearance.  Incremental losses are harder to mourn.  Still, I am a bit surprised by how bereft I feel today.  I am sad at losing my sweet Mam-ma, a loss of several years now, but one I'm grieving today.  And I'm sad at the passage of time -- people, places, and times we enjoyed now gone.  She was my last living grandparent, which underscores my sense of time flying by, never to be recovered.

Now we're waiting for the details of the arrangements and beginning to make plans for an unexpected trip to Tennessee.  The formal traditions of saying good-bye will sweep us along: the visitation, where we'll see friends and relatives I haven't seen in years; the funeral service itself, which I hope includes my Mam-ma's favorite hymns; and the burial in an old cemetery I haven't visited since I was an adolescent.  Oh, and let's not forget the food.  In the American South, if a family member dies, prepare to be swamped with really good food.

I expect a phone call later on, telling us where we need to be and when.  But until then, I'm going to fetch a letter I keep in my jewelry box, a letter my mother gave me last year when she found it in some other papers.  It's addressed to my mother and dated March 27, 1968, two days after I was born.  In it, Mam-ma writes:
You just don't know how much I wish I could come see you and that little baby today.  Since I can't, I'm sending you this little note to let you know we are thinking about you.  Isn't it a good feeling to hold your little baby in your arms?  I just can't hardly wait to see her. . . .  Give that little girl a big kiss for me.
Even though she's been "gone" for almost a decade, she was always there, if that makes any sense.  But now that she's really gone, the loss seems fresh, as if the intervening years between her full, active life and her death had never happened.  I didn't lose my grandmother years ago; I lost her today.

7 comments:

  1. Oh Ellen, What a beautiful heart felt post.

    I mourn with you, my dear friend.

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  2. Beautiful post, Ellen, and my heartfelt condolences. Of course you miss her, because she has gone on ahead.She has gone to help prepare a place for you. Funny how we miss them when the body goes, though really, it's the soul which touches ours. Just think, now, instead of wishing she could be with you, she is waiting on the day you can be with her. xxx

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  3. I was so sorry to hear about your Mam-ma. We will be praying for all of you as you travel and say good-bye. I'm so glad you have that special letter to keep. It is precious to you, I know.

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  4. Thank you all for your condolences. I appreciate it so much! And Jackie, what a beautiful image: Mam-ma waiting for me. I love it.

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  5. Oh, that letter! Now I'm crying, too. What a treasure. It and she.

    Love you.

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  6. My heart goes out to you. I lost my Grandma, also my last remaining grandparent and long-time widow, in May. I love the way you put it:

    She had been absent from my life for years ... Even though she's been "gone" for almost a decade, she was always there, if that makes any sense. But now that she's really gone, the loss seems fresh, as if the intervening years between her full, active life and her death had never happened. I didn't lose my grandmother years ago; I lost her today.

    It was distance, not disease that separated me from my own grandparents, yet I can readily identify with what you are saying here.

    I too believe that they are there, just out of sight, helping Him to prepare that "better place" for us. And I love to think of her happy reunion with my Grandpa! She missed him so much, but no more. Sounds like your Mam-ma had a similarly sweet reunion.

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  7. Ritsumei, thanks for your comments. I so appreciate it!

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