I'm going to do the Warsh!

Grandma Gladys' funeral was yesterday, December 17, 2011.  I feel so close to my son.  We stand at her casket and stay.  He asks where her glasses are.  He has this connection with things beyond the reach of this earth.  When he pulls out the picture ornament of Bryn to hang on the tree, he holds it close, silently.  Tears gather round as if asked to come for support.

I wanted her for my grandma.  For a grandma I never knew and one who didn't want to know.  I sleep with her quilt and Camille wears the bright pink dress Gladys wore to Darrell and Sherilyn's Wedding Reception.  Everyone who speaks mentions that they feel loved, that they know she loved them.  Isn't that the ultimate feeling we all strive for.  She holds her baby sister Betty on her left hip, Betty's left arm reaches towards the heart, Gladys' right hand grasps Betty's knee, no end.  Love. 

When Gabe and I arrive home from the day, we wrap ourselves together in the dark, the lights from the "It's A Wonderful Life" church replica glowing in strands towards the bed.  He holds tight to the program with her picture.  He says she doesn't have a bed but will sleep in a box like thing underground.  When he dies he wants me to leave him in his bed with his beloved fleece over the moon blanket (yes, Sherilyn, despite the new fleece, he cannot part).

Her hands are with me.  One of the times we visit her she reaches out in desperation.  We feel helpless.  So we sit.  Next to her and she holds tight to Brett's hands like the Momma bird in spring outside our window protects the babies in the nest she built.  She stretches her hand for Camille's and
her warmth covers us all.