Death again

Yesterday I mentioned having been at a memorial service, so I thought I should write more about that. It was the fifth death that had touched me over the course of a year, but it was also the best.

With Josh, Paolo, and Luciana, one thing that made the losses harder was a complete lack of preparation. Josh and I had not been in touch for a long time, and I didn’t even know he had asthma. If I had, I do know that an attack can turn fatal, and that there is that potential, but I still tend not to expect it. Everyone else I know with asthmas is still alive. Anyway, it struck out of the blue.

With my aunt and uncle, if I had been there, maybe I would have understood. As it was, of all of Mom’s siblings, if we were to rank them, we probably would have put those two as the healthiest in general, and Paolo was the youngest of them as well. To be fair, no one called to say that things were going downhill—Mom just found out in her regular weekly phone calls with Elda. So I did know that Paolo had a heart attack and was in the hospital, but I thought the hospital would fix him up and release him, and that wasn’t how it happened. I knew Luciana was having problems with her arm, but then it was getting better, and they decided that they did not have to amputate, and I took that as a good sign too. Maybe there were clues that I missed, but both deaths shocked me.

That covers three of the people. Amy was before any of them. She started off the year that Rachel closed out. Amy was not unexpected. We watched her fight cancer for so long before she left, and when it moved to her brain we knew it was just a matter of time. She put up a good fight, but there was plenty of time to know what was happening and to be prepared for it. That did not make accepting it any easier, because she was so young, and there was so much left for her. Her daughter Mary had not even turned three yet, and the new house they were planning was either just finished or almost finished. She just had a lot to live for. So it was gut wrenching, and we were sad.

Rachel was the complete opposite of all of that. First of all, I think her life was pretty complete. She lived in to her eighties, got to see her children happily married, and then their grandchildren, and she had several great-grandchildren. Really, they are an amazing family, and she got to see a lot of that. She served two missions, and got to travel some, and ultimately lived a long full life.

Also, there was time to prepare. She had missed Brad (her husband) since his death, but it, and her stamina, had started getting worse, and things really took a turn for the worse in December, after she had a bad fall. Towards the end she had moved in with one son and his family, instead of being in her own house on the same property, and she was needing more help, and everyone just knew. Still, there are much worse declines. Hers was fairly painless, and filled with loved ones.

I have never been so sure of someone being okay since Brad died. I know she is with him again, and thrilled to be so. There are parents and siblings there, and she did a lot of family history, so she would have found lots of friends waiting for her.

It’s not that there is no sadness involved. There is. Even though her family is happy for her, and also assured that she is fine and that they will see her again, and are still a family, the separation hurts. It first struck me listening to Sam (a son) pray. His voice cracked and I heard the grief, and I felt that pain. When your parents die, you are an orphan, no matter how old you are. Later, standing there, I realized that it was the end of an era. Together she and Brad created a very special place, and memories, and her children and grandchildren want to keep that legacy going, and they will do good things, I know, but it is still change. Yet even with that very justifiable sadness, it is still overwhelmingly okay, and there is peace.

There were many people at the memorial service, including a lot of old friends, and it caused me to think of some other things as well. I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned this, but all four of my grandparents died before I was born. However, it was a close-knit group at church back when we lived in Wilsonville. The Summers were an important part of that, but there was another couple, the Barkers, who were also close, and whom I actually called Grandma and Grandpa. Heaven knows they did not need additional grandchildren, because they had plenty, but they took us in anyway.

We always stayed in touch with the Barkers and the Summers, but there were other people there with whom we were not quite as close. We would still hear about them every now and then through the others, and sometimes run into them, but I don’t think you can maintain contact with every single person you like unless you just don’t like very many people. (Well, Facebook may be changing that now, but we are talking about an older generation.)

Anyway, we saw many of these people at the funeral, and it is over thirty years since we moved, but they still care, and we still care, and it’s just good. It is good that it was a close-knit ward then, and it is good that love lasts. I don’t talk to my friends as often as I would like, but we can pick up again, and the bond has stayed, and if we needed each other sooner, we would be there.

Oddly, I did not worry about being unemployed in that setting. I felt completely secure. (Okay, I did get awkward around A, but that was something else, maybe even merely tiredness because we were getting ready to leave then, and I maybe I had already checked out mentally.)

I was thinking there that maybe family is what you make it, and yet, it’s not quite that they have become extended family either. If I try and explain it, maybe I will cheapen it. I guess what I want to say is that I am grateful for love, and grateful for good, kind-hearted people, and I am grateful for the beauty that comes when you combine the two.