The Other Night...

I was watching a scene from the 1987 movie called the Whales of August. In it one of the main characters named Sarah (Lillian Gish) sits down at her vanity to pretty herself before her gentleman dinner guest (Vincent Price) arrives. (Mind you Sarah is a 92 year old woman). As she sits down at her vanity you see her long, fine, white hair cascading down her back and she quickly and efficiently twists it up into an expert bun with her old arthritic hands. Then she grabs a fuzzy white powder puff and dabs her face quickly with it before leaving to set the table. As I watched this scene I was painfully reminded of my little old grandmother's desire to still feel beautiful and I immediately bust into tears. Literally. That's not something that I'm capable of doing on command, but nevertheless...I did it.

My grandmother is still alive, gingerly walking around on this planet in what has got to be the midnight hours of her life. She is 88 years old, (me thinks) and as of last month has now out-lived her two younger sisters and almost all of her generation in our family, save a few cousins in South America and Rhode Island.

I can't imagine what it must be like to live that long. Longer than the rest. To live long enough to watch your entire generation disappear and be the last. She is the last remaining Matriarch of our family and when she goes, it will be the end of an era. I think my childhood will officially be just a memory as having her here on this earth keeps my past alive somehow. She is part of my very early memories of life.

She is the embodiment of the spoon full of sugar I used to steal from her sugar bowl when no one was looking.
She is the pearl earrings and necklace that once were hers but are now mine because she gave them to me.
She is the sunny side up egg and Taylor Ham if I ever taste it.
She is the winter hat I never wanted to wear, but now I wear it.
She is Frank Sinatra's New York, New York whenever I hear it.
She is the old widow who gave her "two mites" whenever I read it.
She Is.

I wonder if maybe those silly things will help me to somehow tangibly feel her when she is gone. Like the feeling you get when you watch old family movies that are still on the reel or an old VHS. The thing is, once they're gone, it's never the same anymore. The hole that is left will never go away--but can only be filled in by the healing balm of time which one hopes will make the pain in missing someone stop; and only leave a dull ache at the after thought.

Such is the way of life...and death I suppose.

I'm gently reminded of this scripture that the apostle Paul wrote reminding the church at Corinth:

For he (the Lord) says, "In the time of my favor I heard you, and in the day of salvation I helped you." I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation. (2 Corinthians 6:2/ Isaiah 49:8)

All we have is today. So let us redeem the time. Why? Because today is the day of Salvation.

For My Auntie

It's interesting how the cares and worries of our life can stop full stride when someone we know dies. Everything comes to a roving halt and perspective comes smashing down in front of our face, as if the ceiling caved in and you find yourself coughing in the powdery dust around you, waiting for the air to clear.

Not to be overly morbid, but I do think about death probably more so then your average person out there who is generally trying to *not* think about death. I think about it because it's inevitable and it's so important to know that life does not stop beyond the confines of this world. No, our spirits are eternal.

I knew someone who was alive this morning and now is no longer alive or present on this earth. I cannot deny the sadness in my heart today. Yet the Lord is faithful. Not two months ago did He give me a dream of her passing and I knew that it would be soon. He even allowed me the opportunity to say goodbye when I last visited my family and when I left her, I knew I would never see her again. So I cannot say that I am shocked, or didn't see it coming. However, she represented such sweet memories of my childhood and the leaving of her presence on earth is the taking of the tangible person with whom those memories were made.

Memories of wearing her shoes because her feet were so small I could fit into them. Memories of sitting at her vanity and nosing through every piece of jewelry, makeup, photograph and lacy underwear thingy I could find.
Memories of not wanting to eat, so she made up a character called Mr. Breakfast who consisted of her two fingers walking across my plate and he would come to *taste* my scrambled eggs which made me want to eat them.
Memories of her voice and how she would always say "Helloyyyy Colleen" in her sweet little way.
All the parties, all her clothes; so stylish. Her small hands, her sparkly eyes....

Dang it, I didn't mean for this post to end up in the first person. I wanted to stay outside this story. But how can you remove yourself from the ones you love and not have it get personal anyway? That I suppose is a writer's trick that I have yet to learn.

So today is a quiet day. A day for reading the Psalms. A day of remembrance. A day that is sobering. I am reminded of how brief my life is and how I can take nothing with me and how one day I will give an account to my Heavenly Father for the gift of love and life He breathed into me and how I chose to live it...To You Lord, be the Glory!

Romans8:38,39

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.