the joy in sorrow

It's been a contemplative couple of weeks, so I'm not sure that this post will come close to putting into words all the things that are floating around in my gray matter.  Nor am I sure that it will be cohesive.  Bear with me.

After a two-year battle with vascular dementia, my sweet grandmother died on Saturday morning.  Much harder than her death was watching her mind deteriorate and her body wither.  It was expected, and we were all relieved that the Lord took her home.  I am especially glad for my mother, as she was her only living child and took sole responsibility for her.  It made me respect my mother even more, seeing how she loved her mother so greatly, was so accommodating and selfless.  The many, many tears that she shed, not knowing whether she was doing the right things or caring for her mother well despite the obviousness of her care and concern.  It was difficult and beautiful to watch my mother struggle with the weight of responsibility and the ache of loss.  The past year has brought my little family closer, and I have seen my relationship with my parents turn from a parent-to-child relationship to a more adult-to-adult one.  It has been a nice transition, and one that affords more affection and trust between my father and I.  Something I have longed for for years.  

I have never experienced a funeral where I wasn't sad.  Perhaps I was relieved to see my grandmother free of the depression that she could never get over after she lost the love of her life.  Many stories were told of days before her illness - of the vibrant, humorous, and bold grandmother that I know.  It was so good to remember times when she wasn't ill. Remembering she and my grandfather together, how they would dance in the kitchen without music, how they loved each other so fully and rarely, if ever, fought.  I long for a marriage like theirs.  I heard stories of how my grandparents met and fell in love.  Ones I wish I would have heard from their mouths, but in my ignorant youth I never delved into their story with them.  If there is any regret, that must be it.  But I was not sad at her funeral at all.  Death was her ultimate healing, and shall be mine one day.  Before the service there was talk of how happy she must be to see her husband again.  But how much greater it must be to see her Savior.  I'd like to think that she joined my grandfather at the feet of Jesus, and that they are worshipping there together.

Its funny how death brings people together.  She would have loved to have seen us all gathered around my parent's kitchen, laughing and telling stories, and promising to see each other more often.  It was one of the best days I've had in a while.

I was so struck by the smallness of our family.  I realized this week that I have one cousin. One. It made the ache for marriage and family even greater for me.  I want a houseful of people around me, not an empty apartment.  Food and drink and laughter and tables and hugs and purpose. I want my parents to have plenty of years with their grandchildren like my grandparents had with us.  I want my brother to marry and have children, and to be happy. After years of longing for independence from my family, I am now seeing my arrogance and pride.  And it is good.