Weightier Matters

Here are my pre-post disclaimers.  First,  my computer is not completely back to normal.  I do not have my usual scanning/photo software reinstalled on this computer and it has delayed any posting but I am going ahead without pictures.  2. My camera battery is dead.  I carry my camera around everywhere and I always seem to forget to pull it out and use it.  However, this week, I've pulled it out twice only to find (and re-find) that I had a dead battery.  Phooey!

Another person from the LV Ward of my youth passed away last week (Roxie BB) and her funeral was this week.  We have seen too many of the ward members from my youth pass away this past year.  Like I've said before, those ward members from the ward of my youth are in some category all their own, not exactly family, although I think of them as almost family and it gives meaning to the worn out phrase "ward family."  I feel so bad to see those who were the adults of my youth passing away and I feel all the poorer for it.

I wanted to scan the picture from the program for Roxie's funeral but (see disclaimer) I could not. I do not remember a time when I did not know her.  Her children were roughly the ages of my siblings and me.  She was my 4-H teacher (along with JHI) when I was in the 4-H group called "The Soupy Six"--a cooking class.  She would have been present at all the ward activities of my youth when parents attended, since her daughter was nearly my age.  I think I may have even been Roxie's visiting teacher for a very short time.  The funeral was a nice tribute to her.  She was always pleasant, lady-like, kind and she had a ready smile.  She and her husband were real sweethearts and I feel very sad for her husband with her passing.

During the funeral, Roxie's daughter Colette BL said that she could remember an activity for MIA when our  mothers were invited.  At some point, the mothers were to whisper in their daughters' ears what the mothers wanted for their daughters' futures.  CBL said her mother whispered, "I want you to graduate from high school."  As I heard that, I thought that my mother was surely present at the activity but whatever Mom whispered in my ear went in one ear and out the other.  I have no recollection of it.  I tried to think of something that my mother could possibly have whispered--something Edna-like.  After some thought, I decided she would likely have said, "Be a good girl."  That was always what she said to me when I was going anywhere and it certainly could have broad application to my future.

Today was Aunt Genevieve's funeral.  I have been spoiled that despite my late arrival in the lives of my parents (and consequently my extended family) my aunts and uncles, at least on my father's side, have lived to ripe old ages, so much so that I have taken their longevity somewhat for granted.  It is hard to believe that my parents and all my aunts and uncles on either side of my family (18 on Dad's side and 13 on Mom's) are nearly all gone.  There are just three left now, two on Dad's side and one on Mom's.  And such talented people they have all been!

All of Aunt Genevieve's children spoke at the funeral and as the last one finished speaking, the dear, elderly lady sitting next to me said quietly but with real feeling and mainly to herself, "My! What a wonderful family!"  That caused me to reflect on, in deed, what good people Aunt Genevieve's "kids" are and what a tribute that, in itself, is to her.  I would hope to have the same heart-felt whispered exclamation made at my own funeral.

While I have known Aunt Genevieve all my life (and BTW she was also an adult in the ward of my youth so a double loss for me), it has been in the last twenty or so years that our relationship has become even closer--been kicked up a notch, to use Emeril's phrase.  I am thankful for Aunt Genevieve's and my association through the years and I will miss her greatly.  Even driving by her house makes me miss her again and again.  If I focus on the ways that her passing is a good thing for Aunt Genevieve, then I do not feel as bad and I do feel comforted.  If I focus on my loss, then I really feel bereft.

There were a lot of poems shared at Aunt Genevieve's funeral.  I had not known that she loved poetry so much and I am sorry I did not know that.  As I sat there in Aunt Genevieve's funeral, I thought of a poem I had read over a decade ago that means a lot to me and that I always think of at the passing of loved ones. I want to share it here.

When Time of Parting Comes

By John M. Freckleton, “When Time of Parting Comes,” Ensign, Aug. 1997, 17

Does a person newly dead
Indulge in tears
When pausing for a moment
Just beyond the veil,
Beholding loved ones overcome by grief,
Retreat from what was once a bed of pain,
And murmur sad good-byes?
And does the newly dead
Rejoice that mortal agony is over,
Mingling tears of thankfulness
With sorrow for the parting from the loved ones:
Mother for her little children,
Father for beloved wife and family,
Child for loss of earthly home …
Can the spirit thus released
From all the heaviness of earth
Forget at once the happiness
That came from friends
And all the beauty earth life
Sometimes held …
And leave with no regrets
Or backward glance?
Must the leaving differ greatly
From those poignant moments
When we say good-bye
To take our leave at any time
And be without the company of those we love
For many days of longing loneliness
Or for an interlude of years?

I can imagine Aunt Genevieve and Roxie, as well as my mother, pausing just across the veil and looking back at the loved ones whom, for now, they are leaving behind, but then meeting all the other loved ones who are already beyond the veil.  At the close of Aunt Genevieve's funeral, our bishop mentioned that a day to God is 1000 years to us and that in God's years, the time since Uncle Horatio [as well as my father] passed away has been something like 20 minutes, and I thought to myself, "See there! I will see all of these people 'soon'  so I wasn't lying when I said to Mom, "I'll see you soon--well, not for fifty years but 'soon'!"  :o)