Tender hearted me

I'm feeling very tender hearted today. 

Actually, I have been for a bit over several days, now.

My lovely Aunt Helen passed away suddenly last Saturday, July 3rd.   Though she was 83 years old, it's still difficult to say good-bye to someone so well loved, so generous, so kind...I know her children and grandchildren are grieving terribly.  How fortunate for them to have had someone like that in their lives.  For me, I had remembered always feeling special in her presence.  Not a surprise then to find out that everyone that spoke at her vigil service and funeral shared the same sentiments!  I The stories were wonderful.  Seeing my cousins that I rarely see was precious to me, though it was a time of sadness.  An amazing gift was having just reconnected with several of them in Southern California on our trip to Disney back in December.  Aunt Helen, three of her children, and 3 of her grandchildren met us at Knott's berry farm.  The young cousins connected instantaneously; it was a joy to witness!  Aunt Helen was a trooper following us all around the park, determined to not miss out on seeing her grandkids and great neices and nephews making a connection.  In fact, several times I turned to speak to her and noticed tears in her eyes...she was so genuinely thrilled for us all to be together.  She really cherished family.  I told my husband on the way home yesterday that it truly was amazing that we were able to make those connections several months ago...making showing up and grieving together on Thursday so much easier...I know she was looking at us, from wherever she is, smiling, seeing us all together.  I think she might have smiled, too, at the funeral mass...Rafe is generally pretty active at church...behaving, but rarely sitting still!  I really didn't have the energy, though, at this time, so I leaned over to him, and he heard the tears in my voice and saw them in my eyes.  And I very sincerely asked if he would please, please be good, because I was saying goodbye to my very special Aunt.  And you know what?  He didn't move a muscle, except to be right near me the whole time.  It was darling.)

Then yesterday, before we left Glasgow, we stopped in to see my 97 year old Grandmother.  She is in pretty good shape, physically, but has quite severe dementia...which means it's been several years since she's recognized us.  When we got there, she was napping on a sofa in the foyer...and had been for hours.  Finally a nurse roused her.  I knew she would be thrilled to see the kids, and sure enough...she was.  I know it's always awkward for children to go into a nursing home and see older people in various states of physical and mental abilities, but the kiddos were really great.  We had at least 5 rounds of big hugs.  She was quite quiet and didn't say much, but hugged back.  I tried to feed her a bit, but her appetite is really not there.  That coupled with the new development of lethargy is not a great sign, and I think this...along with having just lost my Aunt...made me really weepy and sad.  I was, however, given another precious gift...the time to be alone with her, hold her and cradle her for several minutes, then put her to bed for a nap and hold her hand for awhile.  As I helped her lie down, I said, "I love you, Grandma, so much!" And she said, "I love you so much, too."  This was incredibly sweet to me, because even though she didn't know me right then and there...love was exchanged...and that's such a miracle.  And that's what I told the kids...what matters is that we were able to give her soo much love in a short amount of time.  All that loving energy really matters...whether we think someone knows who we are or not.

I had a good, long sob as we left Glasgow.  And on and off the whole way home.  Just feeling tender hearted, ya know?  Just melancholy.  (Such a Jane Austen, English-y sounding word!)  But it's true.  It's a perfect word for me.

So today, when we went to church, and we sang a song that was sung at my Aunt's funeral, I started to cry...and then I met Henry at the Church Directory photo sign ups.  (There are no coincidences!) He came in to sign up at the computer, and I assisted him.  When I asked him how many were in his party, he said, "Just me.  My wife passed away in October."  And I said, "Well, I'm feeling pretty tender today because I just lost my Aunt, so I might cry."  (smile**) And he started to tell me about her; that she was 87.  That he had spent the last several months of her life next to her in a hospital room as she succombed to Cancer.  That he really missed her.  That he lives in the same house.  That his daughter also went to Holy Spirit School.  Normally, I might have sort of listened and nodded, and offered my smiles and condolences.  But today, I was really present.  And reached out for his hand.  And listened intently.  And offered him a hug.  He squeezed me pretty hard, and said, "You must need a bit of this, too." And I said, "Absolutely!"  Another friend made along the way.

This is one of the miracles of our existence:  To be able to reach out to each other.  In love.  Helping one another on this journey.  If only for a few moments in time.  To fill another's cup with a bit of love and caring is one of life's precious gifts...whether it's for a stranger, or for your grandchildren, or for your neice. 

Maybe that's another reason I'm a bit tender hearted...feeling my cup runneth over this weekend with all the love we so often take for granted day to day.  It's a good reminder to stop and savor those moments.