At a Loss

by Phil

My wife and I currently live in Arizona. We’re originally from Michigan and that's where most of our families still live. So every year for Christmas we take the trek back to the arctic north to take a break from the too-nice winter weather of Arizona. Too many days of perfectly mild temps in the mid-seventies can really skew a person’s perception of the world. We can forget that there are folks struggling with their snow shovels and freezing temperatures. It’s 66 degrees fahrenheit as I write this. Brrrr. Chilly.

So this past Christmas, like every year, we took our pilgrimage up to our respective families. This time was slightly different though because we had our then-5-month-old-son in tow. He really brought the cuteness.

On that trip, our son was able to meet my maternal grandmother, his great-grandmother, for the first and only time.

She passed away just over a week ago. Even when a person is sick for a long time, like she was, it is still always surreal and unwelcome when the event actually occurs.

While I know that my son won’t remember this meeting, I always will. I also know how important it was for my grandmother. And we will forever have the above photo and the stories. My son will be hearing “Oh, I wish you could have known your great-grandmother” often.

So this past week, my little 3-person family took another pilgrimage to Michigan. This time it was to attend her funeral. While the trip’s purpose was a sad occasion, there were some moments of lightness to the event. Her funeral was amazing. While I’m not in the habit of rating funerals (who would do such a thing?), I have to say that her funeral was just about everything a funeral should be. It was a celebration of her life like I’ve never seen at such an affair. There were some really moving stories and eulogies. The people who spoke, for the most part, knocked it out of the park. They didn’t just stand there and remind us that we were sad. They reminded us of a life that was fully lived, one that had joy and warmth. They did her and her life justice like I never could have hoped for beforehand. I was so proud to have not only known this woman, to have had her as my grandmother, but to also be a part of my larger family.

I was so happy that we could make the trip and take part in saying goodbye to this amazing woman. If a life can be measured by the relationships that are left behind, I can only hope that I can live my life as successfully as she.

But I’d like to create a new rule. No one associated with my son is allowed to die anymore. Do you hear that everyone? No more dying. It brings me to a part of life and parenting that I am really loathe to face.

I don’t want to have to explain death to my son. Sadly, he isn’t going to remember his great-grandmother. In a way, it’s a bit of a reprieve for my wife and I as parents. But what happens next time, when he’s old enough to ask questions but too young to understand? I have to figure out some way of explaining it to him? There’s the physical part of death. That is somewhat straightforward. But then there are the follow-up questions. The existential questions. The really hard questions.

Thankfully parenting doesn't happen all at once and I have some time. But this isn’t the sort of thing that I think time is going to make any easier. What would make it easier is if you all wouldn’t die. Do you think you could help me out on this one, please? Thanks.

Sadly, my grandmother passed away before I made this whole no-more-dying rule. Although, being the strong-willed woman she was, she would have done as she pleased anyway.

Goodbye, Grandma. You are deeply missed.