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 “Home”

 

 

I stood in statue formation accepting the nods of strangers; one after another they walked by me. Some made eye contact while others just showed me the tops of their heads. The scent of roses hung just under my nose. I love the smell of fresh cut roses. They remind me of my Grandmother busy in her garden. My mind took a hold of the scent and brought me to another moment in time.  I saw her as I walked down the pathway balancing my donation for tonight’s meal in one hand, my Bible in the other. She was preparing Chicken Divine. The aroma seeped through the window and began to make my stomach long to be inside. She always wore the same apron, yellow now from age and still showing the evidence of last week’s meal. I did so much enjoy those nights of burrowing into God’s Word. She met me at the door wrapping herself around me excited for the company. Her tired blue eyes glossed over with tears of delight. I was elated to be the cause of her newest found joy. I didn’t realize then how much I loved her, but I know now.   I knew she loved me. I always felt like her special girl even though I understood that she loved many. She must have made everyone she loved feel like her precious one.

So many faces gather to speak of such a wonderful woman. Her life was long and full; full of love and full of heartache, full of family and friends. She was the reason we had a family that always got along; it was her demand. The river of black now pours into this simple church. So many people, precious ones. Why are people talking? Life should have stopped for this moment, and yet it didn’t. Through the window the cars were navigating the road and a couple was falling in love sashaying down the front lawn.  Why hadn’t I called her? My mother asked me to call her and I can’t remember now what had been more vital. She was so lonely the past two months hunting down sea glass and fragments of broken sea life on the powdered shores of Florida.  Why couldn’t I have another chance to say goodbye?

The service had started and I didn’t remember how I reached my seat. I knew the pastor was speaking but my thoughts were so deafening he was only a muffle. I was powerless over my shaking body with involuntary whimpers that escaped beyond my lips. There was an orchestra of emotions that surrounded me on all sides lead by someone trying to control their wail without success. My thoughts shouted them down, “this is my time with her!” and still no one heard the bellows within my head. So loud, so loud, I needed to leave; so I flew away on a memory. 

My skin was tingling with excitement as I hurried my children along with their coats. We were heading to church on Good Friday. We didn’t usually go to church on Good Friday but this year was different. I had grown up a little this year. I had learned that God is the most important man in my life, but family was more important than church. I knew God would understand the pull in my heart to be with family on this Easter morning. I had been asked to help prepare the breakfast feast alongside my Grandmother. We were all going to break bread together and celebrate life. My flesh was pumped with anticipation. I hadn’t seen or talked to my grandmother in two months. There was so much I wanted to ask her about how she grew up, why she had seven children, and what was her favorite color? My phone rang. My mom’s voice pleaded through the wires with desperation, “Rachelle, its grandma…” Why! Why! Why! Why grandma, why today? 

I stood by the grave site in my proper place. I had looked at the countenances that encircled my grandmother’s new home. I have heard it called a resting place, but I know the truth; there isn’t any rest in this place today. I knew that this wasn’t really where she was. Her wax figure of a body was in that overly carved box but she was with Jesus. That was her real new home. My mother handed me a rose. I was one of thirty-two grandchildren and I now have the privilege of putting this rose on top of the many other flowers as my goodbye. My eyes had shut without my knowledge and a flash of my grandma’s smiling face was instantly in front of me. Lines were deeply embedded showing all the life that was lived, and still she was so very beautiful. My mom is beautiful like her and I hope to be beautiful like her too someday. My grandmother said to me once that she was ready to go home to be with her Lord as if preparing me. In that moment I could see her speaking to me. In my foolish mind she was suppose to live as long as I needed her to be here with me. 

My eyes opened. The burning within me was making me nauseous.  Did she know how much she meant to me; how much I admired her for the maps to life she had drawn out for all of us? The graveside service ended and I’m sure it was lovely, isn’t that what people say, but I was lost in my own mind walking through the labyrinth to find peace. The soft ground gave way under my feet, and the bubbles of water rolled over my shoes. I placed the rose on my grandma’s carefully designed casket and tarried for just a little while. Jesus, I’m not ready. I just want one more day. I heard Him whisper back answering my thoughts; place your burdens on my shoulders my child and go live everyday as if it were your last.