13 Days till 30- 1994

So I think this actually happened in 1993, but I didn't think it was right to include this with the previous post. What I remember was that it was cold outside and my brother John was with my mom and grandpa at my grandmother's bedside. I don't remember who sat with Jenny and I that night, but John called to say that grandma had died. It was the first death that I had ever known. And it was hard. I always had dreamed of having a grandma who would smile at my silly stories and bake me cookies. I didn't get that type. She wanted to be cremated and she was also a devote Catholic- two things that do not go hand in hand. The reason I bring this up is two fold. First, because she was being cremated we viewed her body as a family as it was when she died, not embalmed and pretty, but cold and dead. It was awful. And second, because she was cremated her remains were not allowed in the church. I have to say that has to be the dumbest, most arbitrary rule ever (I'm sure it's steeped in a lot of history, but really it's just silly). It was hard to watch my mom sob so hard during the funeral that John held her up. I was in ninth grade at the time and I was reading A Tale of Two Cities. This was one of my very favorite books partly because it helped me understand death in a new way and also because of the parallel I drew between Sydney Carton and my grandmother. He was characteristically flawed, but in his death he gave life to others. His death was the most selfless thing he had ever done. I think that it was hard for my grandmother to face her death (I don't imagine it could be all that easy for anyone), but her death gave us all a chance to get to know Gramps in a whole new way. It also made me realize that it was probably the first chance she had ever really had to rest and let go of all the anger and sadness she carried with her. I know that with all her faults, I wouldn't have had the mother I had without her. Dickens's last words in the book are the thoughts of Sydney Carton. When I read them the first time shortly after my grandmother's death, I thought of them as her words and I imagined that she was in heaven reciting them to me as I read: "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."