the years end

2008 was monumental for a lot of us. After some major ups and downs (ie: meeting dave, having bedbugs, electing the first black president into office, moving from a city we loved, having some near death experiences in the car, quitting smoking...), my grandmother, who was 91 years old, chose to pass from this life to the next, on new year's eve, 5 days ago, the last day of 2008. She was in the presence of my mother, who had just returned from a trip to England and France, and had brought back a wool blanket for her mom. When she received the call that my grandmother was losing oxygen and that when asked, she said she wanted to stay home and not go to the hospital, my mother immediately came to sit by her side, and with hands held, she just waited for the final moment. My grandma felt the wool blanket that was given to her and felt the soft material and its warmth over her body, and within 20 minutes, she stopped breathing.

After having just left Asheville from the holidays, where we actually did get to see my grandmother for the last time just a few days earlier, the three of us (being my sister, brother and I) head back. It was an exhausting but healing trip, and I was grateful to have spent it with my mom and my family. The night before the memorial, I decided to write a eulogy, but I had trouble starting. Dave helped me with the process by talking with me about Grandma. He had heard stories all day and seen old pictures of her. And when I continue to feel that I had writer's block, he insisted I just write. Just free write and see what happens. So I did, and it worked. He helped me figure out what I should do to pair it down, to make it fluid. And finally, I had something that I liked.
The next day, I read with heart pounding. But as soon as I started, I felt almost at ease. Like I was supposed to read for my grandma, or to her. And then my mom read her own that I found to be heart wrenching, funny, full of love.

The whole funeral experience was somewhat new to me. I mean burying someone. To actually get up and toss three shovel-fulls of dirt into a deep whole where someone I grew up with lay. It's easy to take for granted all the people who have raised you, dressed you, cared for you in some way, just because you grew up and hadn't noticed it in a while. It's also strange to see the generation that dies being replaced with the next.

With all this, I do believe 2009 will be a good year.