I am traveling with my family this week to the
funeral of my son's great grandmother, Granny P. She was 93 when she passed away and had been
in an assisted living facility for some years due to Alzheimer's Disease. The last few times we visited she did not
really respond to us, but my son was convinced she smiled at him.
I believe him.
Because that is what she always did with him. She would watch him when he was little and
say over and over, "perpetual motion, he's perpetual motion." And she
would smile. She was part of his life
and he adored going to visit Baba, one of his grandmothers, and her mom, Granny
P, his great grandmother.
While there - anytime we visited - she would
ask him about his puppy, go for walks with him, and they would play on the
floor with red puppy and a toy train for hours.
On one visit when he was a toddler, she became
convinced that his little red puppy (a stuffed animal he took everywhere with
him) was in fact hers. The entire time
we were there she would secret it away and we would have to go retrieve it for
him. She was not aware of what she was
doing but he knew she was taking something that was his. He was confused, but trusted us to rescue it
for him.
When we got ready to leave one time, she once
again had gotten red puppy away from him.
We distracted her the best we could and searched her room until we
rescued red puppy from behind some blankets in her closet. She had hidden it extremely deeply in the
closet. But we were not about to leave
without it. We still tell the story and
he knows it well.
This weekend at the memorial service,
grandkids and great grandkids were asked to bring pictures or other items to
remember Granny P. My son brought red
puppy (yes, we still have it even though he is now 13 years old). He will tell the story of her thinking it was
hers and taking it several times. Some
will laugh and some will wonder what the story means. For him it is a memory of being with
her. It is a memory of her interaction
with him - despite her disease. He does
not know her from her prime. He
remembers a funny lady in a hat who took his red puppy and called him
"perpetual motion."
But he still remembers her. He wanted to be here to say goodbye. And he wanted to share his wonderful memory
of her.
That is what memorial services and funerals
are all about. They are about
remembering the roles our loved ones play in our lives - whether briefly or
over an extended period of time. It is a
chance to compare memories with others and to say thank you for the roles our
beloved family members played on our journey.
It is a time to laugh as much as cry.
It is a time to drink deeply from the family well. It is a time to remember.
Yes, my son still has red puppy. He keeps it in his keepsake box. He keeps it because he got it from his aunt
and uncle for his first birthday and it reminds him of Clifford, the Big Red
Dog, who his Baba introduced him to. And
he keeps it because Granny P took it from him and his parents rescued it for
him.
Sharing that memory makes him happy. Remembering Granny P makes him smile. Remembering those who have walked this life
journey with us is important. This
weekend is all about that.
Drink deeply from that well, my friends.