The loss of a loved one

Margaret Jeanette Herman, age 82, passed away on August 31st.  Most folks in the community knew her as "Jean", but to me, she was Grandma.

On my wedding day 8/19/06

Life can be a messy thing.  Thinking back to the time I had with my grandmother, there were my childhood days when I probably spent the most time with her but yet took this time for granted.  A naive adolescent - didn't everyone have a Grandma as great as mine?  Then there were the awkward teenage years, not knowing how to put into words the things I observed, things I appreciated, things I loved.  The college years was all about being young and free, and these faded into the married years.  Too busy starting my career, starting my family, just too far away and not enough time to stop by for a visit.  Messy, messy, messy.  As I shared these regrets with my mother when she first told me of Grandma's passing, she had some wonderful words of comfort.  "Martha, if there was anyone who would've understood, it was Grandma."

Christmas 2005

As we greeted family and friends during the services, there was one woman who made a very dear comment to me.  She simply stated, "You look so much like your grandmother."  She was probably just making small talk and didn't realize she would strike such a chord, but like a badge of honor, I shall wear this resemblance with pride.  But as far as personality goes, I can recognize lots of my family members in me.  My mothering skills undoubtedly come from my own mother, some days I'm completely caught off guard by how much I'm starting to sound like her.  My love of the mountains, nature, and all things outdoors comes from my father, and perhaps a bit of my stubbornness.  My fun loving, beach-bumming side comes from my mother's family.  My enjoyment of gathering friends & family comes from my Grandpa Herman, as well as my inability to get anywhere on time.  But if there's anything about me that is kind & tender, fair & just, accepting & thoughtful, I would like to think this comes from my Grandma Herman.

Christmas 2010 - Grandma made sure everyone got a stocking...

 
It is from this slice of the messy-Martha pie that I tapped into to write a few words in remembrance of Grandma.  I shared it with my aunts and was so pleased/honored/humbled that they decided to include it in her eulogy.  I share it with you now only give you a better idea of what my Grandma was like.  Please enjoy.

 

If there is one word that seems to come to mind when I think of my grandmother, it is “homemade”, with all the love and hard work that that word implies.  I think of the hand-crafted Barbie clothes I played with as a child.  The macaroni ‘n cheese dish that only she was able to perfect, despite my best efforts at duplicating her recipe.  The delightful afternoons I spent at her home learning to sew and make crafts.  I’m afraid I can never look at a pipe cleaner without thinking of Grandma.  Or the fact I find myself saving every button I stumble upon, you just never know when you might need one in that shape or color.  The harmonic hum of a sewing machine - that is certainly the sound of Grandma’s house.  Everything about Grandma was made from scratch, made with meticulous love and care.

And then there was her spirit.  Steady, loving, accepting, patient, always the quiet observer - ready to jump in with a quirky little joke that would tickle the heart strings.  Her ability to see the beauty around her:  whether it was a blooming flower, an intricate quilt stitch, or a fluttering bird.  The color blue and its many variations, oh how she cherished each one of them.

We could probably tell a million stories of her giving nature.  Food, clothes, quilts, crafts, all made with love, with care, with each individual in mind.  She had an uncanny ability to provide you with the exact sort of comfort you were in need of.  Always thinking of others and seldom herself.

As we carry on without this beautiful soul in our lives, I think of her now as the young woman I’ve seen in photos.  Her and Grandpa - giddy newlyweds posing for silly pictures in a hayfield.  I imagine Grandpa giving her a big ole smooch as she was reunited with him.  I picture her blushing and sheepishly grinning.  She is happy now and at peace.  This gives me great comfort.

We are all better people for having known her, our lives touched by her special way.  We will think of her often with warm hearts and maybe even a giggle or two (as she would have wanted).   I know I only hope to live my life as greatly as she did.

So we say good bye.  Rest in peace Grandma, we love and we will miss you dearly.