It has come to my attention that I know only two ways of expressing grief. One is to sit stony-faced and mute...and the other is just incredibly messy. I become a big bag of feelings that spill everywhere. And that just makes people want to come by to help me scoop up all those parts and I'm just not all that sure how to handle it. Talking about death always inspires concern from others and though it's appreciated, it has to be said that in this case it's probably not necessary. Rare is it when a good life is followed by a good death, but when it is found to exist I feel it ought to be reported.
So...with that in mind I have to say that Mr. Half's Grandma Y died early yesterday morning on the tenth anniversary of the day we buried her husband. She was 96. She was a wonderful woman and half of one of the most incredible marriages I have ever witnessed. Paul and Martha were true equals in a day when a woman's opinion mattered little. They met when they were college students and many years later, when they were packing up their home and moving to a retirement village, she came across the nightgown she had worn on their first night as husband and wife. As she unfolded it from the box where she had stored it for 60-plus years she confided to me that she spent more time and care searching for this perfect piece of lingerie than she had on her wedding dress.
Grandpa sold dairy equipment to businesses and she was a school teacher. Two of her students were unusual little boys--brothers--in a Beaumont, Texas elementary school and when she mentioned them decades later, she had no idea that they had become rock and blues artists of some renown. That day her grandchildren enjoyed filling her in on what had become of Johnny and Edgar Winter.
I never heard an unkind or judgemental word from either one of them and the word "scofflaw" was reserved for only the worst of humanity. They exhibited patience with even the most vexing of people when the rest of us voiced our frustration openly. When their oldest grandchild (Mr. Half) pierced his ear and grew his hair to his waist (the first time) and then cut it, she carefully wrapped the braid in tissue and laid it in a place of honor...in a drawer drawer next to her own girlhood braid and that of her only daughter...Mr. Half's mother.
Both Grandpa and Grandma were citizens of the world and displayed a curiosity about countries other than the one they called home. Seasoned travelers and voracious readers, they respected each other and accepted encroaching age with admirable dignity and never let you come by for a visit that they didn't tell you how happy they were that you were a part of the family. Near the end of their time together they pooled their abilities and he took over all of the driving that she had given up. When the effects of childhood polio and cancer impaired his flexibility, she bent each day to tie his shoes for him. Despite the fact that she missed Grandpa every single day of the last decade and frail health kept her from traveling, doing her famous needlework or reading her favorite books, she never complained. She was glad to be alive and she embraced life's small moments with enthusiasm and grace and a gentle sense of humor.
In this family, Grandma was the last of her generation...of her siblings and their spouses as well the last survivor of Grandpa's siblings and their spouses. And yet she stayed interesting and interested--as he was-- in the growing products of her marriage: her three adult children, eight grandchildren and 15 great-grandchildren. To her there were no in-laws or out-laws...only family. And in the case of Grandma Y, I was as important to her as her real grandchildren. And she was like a grandmother to me. I am fortunate indeed to have known her...both of them...really.
To slip away from this life with no regrets...well...I can't imagine it, but I know that this is the case with Grandma Y. If there was a way for Grandpa to have been there to help her cross over in those early morning hours, it is a great comfort to think that this is how it happened. It's important for us to believe it because they were such wonderful individuals who, as a couple, provided an unaffected model for mutual respect and love. Our world is a little emptier today, but it's also difficult not to celebrate the full circle-ness of life. We cry a little...and then we tell another story that makes us smile or laugh. And we keep the lessons alive by trying to be a little more like the people who provided us with the best example. That way...they're always with us.
Stoicism - being the rock that others can cling to when the storm seas rise - is a much misunderstood and undervalued character strength. We don't all grieve the same way, and no way is better than others.
I don't think you care less for people who have moved on, simply because you don't express your grief in ways others prefer. I admire your reserve, honour it, and understand that your thoughts - and your grief - are very personal.
I am sorry for your family's loss, and I know you feel a great pain today. I won't offer you a shoulder to lean on. Instead, just know that I'm standing beside you.
Posted by: Nils | April 24, 2007 at 08:02 PM
My thoughts are with you guys.
Posted by: Chag | April 24, 2007 at 08:13 PM
I'm so sorry for your loss, love.
I think some good thoughts for your family.
Posted by: CircusKelli | April 24, 2007 at 08:46 PM
I am very sorry for your loss. Sending thoughts and prayers your way.
Posted by: anne | April 24, 2007 at 09:06 PM
I'm sorry.
Posted by: daysgoby | April 24, 2007 at 09:08 PM
I'm so sorry for your loss; this was a wonderful tribute.
Posted by: Jess | April 24, 2007 at 10:09 PM
Sleep well, Grandma Y.
Posted by: mrtl | April 24, 2007 at 10:24 PM
what a gorgeous tribute. what an amazing couple.
how wonderful you get to keep their spirit alive.
Posted by: jen | April 24, 2007 at 10:57 PM
This was a wonderful tribute. It sounds like she had an amazing life.
Posted by: Ash | April 25, 2007 at 02:38 AM
She sounds like a lovely person - I'm sorry for your loss, and feel enriched by your tribute to her.
Posted by: Heather | April 25, 2007 at 06:16 AM
I am truly sorry for the emptiness you feel, I hope its temporary and you all can soon be fulfilled by the wonderful memories.
Posted by: Steff | April 25, 2007 at 07:26 AM
It sounds like she lived a rich life. I bet she had some great stories to tell.
Posted by: anna | April 25, 2007 at 08:14 AM
I'm so sorry for your family having lost such a wonderful person.
It sounds like the world is a bit less bright without her in it.
Posted by: Gina | April 25, 2007 at 09:46 AM
This is really lovely. What a wonderful woman. I'm glad you shared her with us.
And that bit about the Winter boys kills me.
Posted by: KathyR | April 25, 2007 at 12:12 PM
96? Wow. That's a pretty good run.
Sorry for your loss.
Posted by: Jay | April 25, 2007 at 02:05 PM
I hope there will be someone who can truthfully say all of these things about me when I die, hopefully, at the age of 96. I'm glad to know your happy memories are sustaining you all through this time of loss.
Posted by: Annie | April 25, 2007 at 02:37 PM
A lovely tribute to a life well lived. We should all hope that when our time is over that there will be someone who will say things so kind of us.
Posted by: Antique Mommy | April 25, 2007 at 02:37 PM
Oh, they sound so lovely! I never knew any of my grandparents well enough to love them.
How blessed, and how beautiful.
I am sorry for your loss, but somehow, after reading this, I feel as though they will always be with you.
Peace.
Posted by: Mrs. Chicken | April 25, 2007 at 03:07 PM
What an amazingly beautiful tribute! You've inspired me ... I'd better get to work!
Posted by: Chaos Control | April 25, 2007 at 05:48 PM
That was a beautiful tribute, and worthy of some sort of blogger's award.
Grandma Y sounds like a person I would have loved to have known, and certainly an inspiration for tolerance, patience, and just plain faith in humanity.
My sincere condolences to you and Mr. Half. May her memory inspire future generations of the "Half family." Certainly Grandma Y has inspired me.
Posted by: Ortizzle | April 25, 2007 at 05:52 PM
I am sorry for your loss. It sounds like she was a truly remarkable woman who lived a a wonderful life.
Posted by: OddMix | April 25, 2007 at 07:01 PM
What a wonderful, wonderful tribute. Just beautiful...
Posted by: CircusKelli | April 25, 2007 at 08:03 PM
What a lovely tribute! Your relationship with her reminds me of my relationship with my husband's late grandmother. I miss her more than I miss my own grandma.
Posted by: Heather | April 25, 2007 at 08:32 PM
This is so well written, and it inspires me. The art of giving and accepting life's graces and goodness, remaining open to experience, loving to family, and connected in a marriage is truly rare.
The photo is wonderful. Apparently they were beautiful people inside and out. I'm sorry for your family's loss but so happy to hear of their legacy.
Posted by: V-Grrrl | April 25, 2007 at 11:53 PM
What a lovely tribute.
My mother is still with us. She'll be 95 her next birthday. I hope I can do as well by her when the time comes as you did in this post.
I'm a stoic on the surface. I'm not sure if it's a blessing or a curse. It causes people to think of me as stronger than I really am.
Posted by: ann adams | April 26, 2007 at 10:17 AM