RIP Steve Jobs
October 5, 2011Remembering Bubbie
September 7, 2011
My maternal grandfather died on August 27. It happened just five months after his wife, my Nana, died (March 31). I couldn’t imagine losing both of my parents just months apart. I know Bubbie wanted to make sure he was there to take care of Nana while she battled her disease. After she passed, I think he was ready to go himself.
I was able to spend a lot of time with Bubbie just one month ago. The family celebrated his 90th birthday in July. And now he is gone–it happened so fast. He wasn’t ill, however, slowly, his body was giving out on him—kidney failure. I wasn’t there the night he died, however, my mom tells me his last words were “Let’s go!” as he took off his oxygen mask. He was not afraid of death.
Of course I am sad that he is gone, but there is a part of me that is happy; happy that he and Nana are finally reunited. I bet they are having a ball up there! I find comfort knowing that they are together again.
The funeral for Bubbie was this past weekend. It was wonderful seeing the family again, despite the circumstances. The ceremony was beautiful and held in the Catholic Church. I read Psalm 91 and my mom spoke, like she did at Nana’s funeral. My mom’s words were touching. She reminded everyone that her dad was a man from the greatest generation that ever lived—he was a Sergeant in the U.S. Marine Corps during WWII and saw action in the South Pacific as a navigator, flying supplies into Guadalcanal. After the war, his faith, family and country were the things that remained the most important to him.
I held it together during the funeral. However, when the honor guard came to the cemetery to honor their fallen brother, I lost it. About 15 veterans came in uniform to show their support. They were already in front of the grave, rifles in hand, when we arrived. One member of the guard led the other veterans and saluted my grandfather after they shot their rifles and a lone bugler played Taps. They then presented my family with the American flag that was draped over his casket. It was very emotional and something I will never forget.
Here are some pictures of the honor guard at the cemetery.
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Rest in peace, Bubbie. You lived a long, wonderful life and were loved by so many. I love you.
Food for Thought
June 18, 2011
I’m really not into email chain letters. However, every so often my mom or dad will send me one and I read every word. I don’t forward them on, but they are good to share elsewhere; like Adult Truths. This past week, my dad sent me one that I thought was really something else. I
bolded the lessons I thought were particularly good reminders.
Supposedly, this was written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of Cleveland, Ohio.
“To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me.”
1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your
friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone.
8. It’s OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is useless.
11. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the
present.
12. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what
their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be
in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don’t
worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath, It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or
joyful.
18. Whatever doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the
second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life,
don’t take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy
lingerie. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, and then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don’t wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: ‘In
five years, will this matter?’
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone, everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is; it will change.
32. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of
anything you did or didn’t do.
35. Don’t audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative–dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone
else’s, we’d grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come…
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.
Remembering Nana
April 10, 2011
On March 31, my maternal grandmother died.
Today was her funeral. (Technically April 9, since it’s a little after midnight)
As I write this, I am sitting in my aunt and uncle’s basement recollecting about the day. For the first time, in a long time, the family was together again. And, though, the circumstances of our gathering were anything but pleasing–the support and love surrounding us all was immense. (Photo: Charlie, Nana and me on Butler graduation day. May 2009)
Nana had been sick for a long time. Dementia. Alzheimer’s—what an awful disease. She had no idea who I was anymore–not just me–the whole family. Nana came to live in Indianapolis in the fall of 2008. My mom visited her at the nursing home almost every single day. As time passed, Nana got worse. My mom told me not to go visit with her. “I don’t want you to remember your grandmother this way…” she’d tell me. “Just remember the good times.” I came across pictures of Nana on my mom’s phone one day. Nana was frail, in a wheelchair, her brown curls turned flat and white, face was gaunt—but boy, she never stopped smiling. I ached for my mom.
The funeral was beautiful. The flowers; the number of guests who paid their respects. Though I am one of six grandchildren, I felt so honored and grateful for having known my grandmother and the person she was. Charlie read Psalm 23. My cousin, Mark, spoke on behalf of the grandchildren–reminiscing about memories with Nana. Then my mom got up and spoke on behalf of the family. She was peaceful, positive and poised. I was so proud of her. At the close, a friend of Nana’s sang “On Eagles Wings” and people joined in on the chorus. My dad and two uncles, along with Charlie and my two male cousins were pallbearers. It was moving and emotional.
This was my first family funeral. Though Nana’s death was not necessarily a surprise—it didn’t make the passing any easier. I had many thoughts and questions running through my head that I wanted to share with Nana, so I decided to write her a letter. The night before the funeral, I did just that. I expressed my sadness, memories of joy, my love for her, but also how selfish I felt for wishing she was still here. I put the letter in an envelope and wrote “Nana” on the outside. Today, I slipped it next to her while the casket was open. Knowing that it is buried with her, and will be read by her only, offers me closure.
In closing, Nana’s death was extremely sad, but my mom and Aunt Sue thought of it different. My aunt brought about 25 decorative butterflies to the funeral today. We pinned them to the flowers surrounding the room and on the casket. I asked “What’s the deal with the butterflies?” My mom responded, “For so long, Nana’s spirit was cooped-up in this deteriorating body and she was unable to escape. But now, she has finally immersed from her cocoon and is able to spread her wings. The butterflies represent Nana.”
Rest in peace, Nana. You lived a long, wonderful life and were loved by so many. I love you.

Posted by Jackie 
