Two of my family members have passed away this year. It's brought a level of grief to our immediate family that we, until now, haven't experienced. My grandma and my uncle. My mom's mother and brother. My grandpa's wife and son. My aunt's husband and mother-in-law. My cousins' grandma and father.
It's difficult to find gentle ways to write about their passings. My grandma suffered a form of Alzheimer and, while I know very little of the disease, I know that she slowly and over many years lost her memory. It began as little details like the slip of a name and ended with little recognition of close family, even her children and husband. Her mind and memory slowly declined until it could no longer keep her body functioning. It was terrible.
My uncle had a rare form of brain cancer. Most people die within about a year of being diagnosed. He lived nearly four years after his diagnosis. In the end, the treatment was causing his kidneys to fail and stopping it meant the cancer remained until his body could no longer handle it. It was terrible.
Both my grandma and uncle suffered deaths from diseases of the brain though very different types. And it was terrible.
But their lives were wonderful.
I'm by no means saying they were perfect but I want to mark their lasting impressions on me.
I had the honor of speaking at my grandmother's funeral. My siblings and I made a list of all we remembered about being at our grandparent's house. Among the lists were red vines, watching cable, a toothbrush with our name, swinging together on the back porch, painting nails, typing on her typewriter (that she would frequently use to mail people letters and cards), summer sleepovers, the list could honestly go on and on. We remembered these because of all the time we spent there, of all the time we spent with her and my grandpa. She would often and nearly always be doing something. She did not sit easily. But she had this way of bringing us into what she was doing. She wanted us to be such a part of her life that she somehow combined doing life and being with us. She always left us with a feeling that we belonged and were always welcomed and wanted there. This stands as such a beautiful picture to me of allowing people to come into your life and be a part of it. One I hope to grow towards mirroring.
I remember my uncle as a joyous person. He was not boisterous or commanding in it. He simply enjoyed life and it radiated from him. He was often laughing and had such a seemingly effortless way of connecting with us. A game of last tag and harmless teasing were almost always a part of any time spent with him. What struck me was that in his many years of fighting cancer he never seemed to loose this about himself (though I'm sure he had his moments). I, honestly, can't imagine what he went through in his mind and body yet these traits remained. He kept his faith, hope, and joy. In a journey of such anguish what admirable attributes to continue in.
Both of them walked with the Lord. The sustainer of their lives and the One holding them until the end. He was their strength and comfort.
I am honored to have known them and to have been loved by them. I hope when my time here ends others can see our Savior's character in me like I can see in them. May they rest with Him now no longer in their sufferings.
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