Got the news this morning that the stepfather of a dear friend died in the night. Our friend and her husband are worried about how to tell their small boys that their grandfather is dead. This breaks my heart. When I was nine years old, my Nana died of a heart attack. I had spent so much of my life with her. She was such a center of my existence. I remember the events leading up to my parents breaking the news to my sister and me as if they'd happened yesterday.
At some point, I ran to hide under my mom and dad's bed, and read comics there and acted as if the terrible news wouldn't get me if I could just stay out of sight. My cousin Nancy finally talked me into coming out. It was all so terrible. And do you know, I now have only the vaguest recollection of Nana. Second only to my parents, she was the central figure of my childhood till age nine, and in my memory, it's as if she were someone I met in passing, once. The trauma of her unexpected death made nine-year-old me lock those memories of her away somewhere. I have no idea how to find the key.
The other day I was listening to an interview on public radio with a psychologist who has been a paraplegic since a car accident in 1979. An 18-wheeler's axle broke, sending its wheel flying across the median, and onto the psychologist's car. He told the host that the last thing he remembered was "a big black thing" coming down on top of him. And then his life changed forever. He went on to say that in the course of his life and career, he's come to understand that most people have had a Big Black Thing come down on them out of nowhere, and fundamentally alter them.
The interview made me wonder in what ways I cannot discern the sudden loss of my grandmother at such a young age affected my way of seeing the world. Maybe I'm prone to thinking a lot about disasters, and how quickly and awfully everything can change, because of that. I don't know. Please say a prayer for our friends, and their boys.
Add to Del.icio.us
Add to Technorati
Add to Digg
Add to Newsvine
Add to Facebook
Add to StumbleUpon
Subscribe
I was lucky that granddad didn't die when i was kid, that happened when i was big enough -at the age of 16. I remeber that May day 12 years ago as if it was yeaterday. The following days there were entering tests at university i was going to enter, we were alone with younger brother, granddad was not living with us but we knew he went to his country house that day. It turned late and mother didn't come home, and i felt a presentiment that something might happened to grandfather, i remeber programmes we watched on tv, presentiment was only growing, then phoned grandmother and said that mother went to the country house because granddad fell ill, she said nothing else but I guessed at once what happened, because grandmother phoned to us only at big events such as birthdays (they were divorced). Untill mother's return we watched tv pretending that nothing happened, i was reading Gorky "Na dne" and eating oranges granddad bought me 3 days before.
She returned very late sobbing and asked 'Has grandmother already told you?'(not telling what) We said 'Yes'. My person divided in two. One half was on moon beaten a heavy sack over head and lost all orientation in time and space, another part was coldbloodedly reading "Na Dnye" not missing a word. I finished the book that evening. And the next day went to math exam. We didn't cry, because we usually don't express emotions to each other,it might seem hard-hearted from distance, but I felt that something very important happened, a mystery, and crying was out of place.(to cry is very well when a cat dies).
All the following month i walked the streets as a cosmonaut, enterd trolley-buses and metro like a cosmonaut, everything seemed so strange as if it was not me, i trace the ways granddad went in metro and thought ' 2 weeks ago he might look at this lamp or maybe he was sitting on this seat', then i decided if i ever have grandchildren to call one of them his name.
That wasn't a big black thing.
Maybe for young kids it is.Although I remeber a classmate, a girl around 8 or 10 describing her granddads funeral just as something amusing.
Will be praying for your friends and their children!
When I was about the same age you were when your Nana died, my grandmother died. She was only in her early 50's. I never thought about it before in the terms you describe but you have a very good point.
My mother, who had not only lost her mom but her best friend, did an incredible job keeping grandma alive for us. She talked about her mom all the time, encouraged us to pray for her, told us when grandma would have been "proud" of us or would have laughed at something funny we did. She sang songs her mother knew, and told us stories about her childhood. She reminded us of times we had shared and regularly brought out the boxes of pictures.
And I've learned how important it is to do this. My husband's parents are both deceased. Our adult memories of family times are so clear I found it surprising and a little scary to find how quickly our children's memories of their grandparents are fading. Time to make a regular habit of bringing out the stories, and the pictures.
God bless!
There were some beautiful thoughts expressed her. I thank you for them. And we will certainly remember them in our prayers.
Hey Rod,
Do Orthodox pray for the deceased? I know there is no purgatory doctrine but I imagine you pray for the dead right?
just curious
Mike
Thank you all very, very much for your heartfelt comments. And for your prayers. You have no idea how much it means at this hour.
Rod - brothers for eternity.
Post a Comment
By submitting these comments, I agree to the beliefnet.com terms of service, rules of conduct and privacy policy (the "agreements"). I understand and agree that any content I post is licensed to beliefnet.com and may be used by beliefnet.com in accordance with the agreements.