Funerals are supposed to be sad. Aunt Nonnie passed away recently and this one proved to be no exception. Thank goodness for 2 of her devoted grandsons all but taking over the service from pastor greg. I dislike our town's right wing zealot-preacher. It would have been grim if the entire service had been done by him. As it was, only most of his part was awful.
Jonathan sang & played guitar and it was like I was 12 again; seeing & hearing his dad. Amazing Grace went a little rock-n-roll, in a really good way! Aaron has followed in his parents path as well. George & Linda both went to bible college after high school - although it didn't lead to where ever they thought it might. But for Aaron it's working out well. He spoke of his grandmother - through the eyes of her grandchildren . . . all boys. All 6 of the great-grandchildren have been boys as well. One of her last laments was still waiting for a great-granddaughter.
Aaron confirmed all I knew about her and much that I never knew. She was one of those people you know is Good. They are the meaning Good intended. His words made such an impact they still ring in my ears and I've promised myself to try to be a better person in her memory.
I had made it through the week with not much more than watery eyes a time or two, knowing an all out weeping wail felt like it was brewing just below the surface. As I hugged Yvonne at the end of the service and she whispered the knowledge of Aunt Nonnie's love in my ear, I lost it. I drove through tears and halfway there, I knew: I needed to talk to my sister. Instead of going home or to the church gathering, I turned in at the cemetery and visited with Nola a while. Each time I lifted my head to look at the sky through tears, a warm breeze swept over my face and around me. I felt the comfort of her hug again.
I wonder how it can be that I've lived half of my life now without Nola.
Sisters should be treated well & with love, always.