11 Apr
The wake was last night. I walked into the entryway of the funeral home a bit early (I couldn’t go to the afternoon showing because of the rugrats) and my mother asked, “Are you ready?” I said, “no” and continued to look at the picture board. A few minutes later she repeated, “Are you ready?”

“No – I’ll never be ready.”

She ushered me into the room where my grandmother lay. There she was, amidst dozens of flowers and plants, lying in the gown she picked out. Her hands looked skeletal, and her face seemed so different, as gravity had taken hold and pulled her cheeks back.

I lost it.

I lost it a few more times that night, once when a very good friend of my mother’s, who was like a surrogate parent to me when I was growing up, walked in, and again when my grandmother’s sister leaned over the casket and said, “She took care of all of us. God love you woman – I’ll miss you so”, and kissed her on the forehead.

I felt better, though, later on that evening when I was home with my husband. I slept better.

Today was the funeral. My best friend drove all the way up from Boston to support me and to be at my grandmother’s funeral. I am blessed in my friends.

I wrote and read a eulogy. I made it over halfway through before I started crying. My cousin, who also read a eulogy, came up behind me, put his arm around my shoulder and kept going until I could compose myself enough to finish.

This was the poem I used at the end.

God saw you getting tired
and a cure was not to be
so he put his arms around you
and whispered, “Come to Me”

With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you pass away
and although we loved you dearly
we could not make you stay.

A Golden heart stopped beating
hard working hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove us
he only takes the best.

I will forever miss you, Gram.

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