Friday, June 1, 2012

Today found the Hanna girls and my granddaughter heading out early to drive a couple hours in order to get to my grandfather’s memorial service.  The attendance was small, just the main members of the west coast family were present.  A couple of months back, there was another service for the east coast members. 

Having fewer attendees was nice, for it gave us time to interact more with one another.  The best part was how there were five little ones, all under the age of two and a half years.  There’s a vitality and sense of living that small children bring with them wherever they go.  They’re unaware that a memorial is a ceremony meant to be somber—too young to understand.  So, when my granddaughter stood up on the pew during the service, just at the moment when folks began to cry, remembering my grandfather, and shouted, “Yay,” with unbridled enthusiasm, a broad smile upon her face, folks turned around and took notice. 

Instantly, the mood was transformed from that of mourning to one of celebration.  And why not?  Why not celebrate my grandfather’s life rather than mourn it?  He was a man who lived life to its fullest right up until he died at age 92.  In my book, that’s cause for celebration, not mourning.  So, sitting in the pew behind my granddaughter, who turned that winning smile upon me, sheer glee radiating from every one of her pores, I did what seemed most natural.  I let my soul rejoice my grandfather’s life, the joy of my granddaughter and smiled right back at her. 

I noticed heads turn to notice the other four little ones in attendance, and I could feel the deep appreciation for their being there.  For the life the wee ones brought to the occasion.  For the smiles they freely offered, too young to know they should be upset.  And so, along with my granddaughter, I celebrated my grandfather’s passing—as he would have liked….