rambling reflections on those gone...

this weekend I had a whirlwind trip back to the midwest to attend the memorial service for my grandmother, a farm woman from central illinois while a simple woman, she had a subtle, yet incredible strength. born in 1911 she watched the world move in leaps and bounds, outliving her husband Marvin by 30 years, as well as a child, a sibling, and even grandchildren. through it all she remained full of wit and smiles in a way that I wish I could emulate.

in the time since her death I have been thinking much about the legacy we leave behind when we go...and there may be no greater testiment to the character of a person than the quality of family they give to the world. and by that measure, while I may be biased, I would say my grandmother was a rousing success. married to the son of an unwed german immigrant, she raised a family that has spread into one of the more stable and loving expansive environments I can imagine. and for her role as its matriarch, I am forever grateful.

but that is not all she gave to me. when I was young, she, like many grandmothers, would bake cookies for her grandchildren whenever a visit was due. her specialty was chocolate chip, a long-time staple loved by all american youth but one...myself. I hated chocolate chip cookies...for whatever unnatural reason, I just could not stand a good cookie to be ruined by the presence of melted chocolate. and so my grandmother always made two batches, and we always returned with three tubs of cookies - two full of her signature chocolate chip for my three brothers and one overflowing with her secret gem; oatmeal raisin, just for me. and while I may not have realized it at the time, by that simple act, my grandmother was telling me something that every child deserves to hear and to know in their heart...that I was loved and cherished, not by virtue of my place in a class such as grandchildren, but by virtue of my uniqueness. through oatmeal raisin cookies I learned that I was loved by her for one simple reason...that I was me. I cannot overstate the importance of this and the impact it can have on a life as one matures...and for that, I am also forever grateful to her. and while I failed at appropriately and adequately sharing my appreciation with her, I hope she knows.

not too long ago, she sent a letter to my oldest brother. in talking of his family she slipped into rememberances of her own and how it grew. and while it contained some characteristic musings and tangents expected of any of us that may be so lucky as to near 100 years on this earth, it concluded with a powerful sentiment she did not often express..."I sure do miss Marvin." and for that, I sincerely hope beyond hope that there is a heaven, and that my grandfather waited patiently all these years for her to join him again.

and I hope that this heaven has a place for the animals that are dear to us. on sunday morning one of my brother's received word that his four-legged companion of nearly 15 years had passed in his sleep. petey, a little toy fox terrier, had grown up with my brother, who brought petey home as he began his adult life. to this day, I have not seen a dog that more clearly belonged with one person than petey with my brother. petey was there with him through moves, broken relationships and a burgeoning marriage. petey grew with him as he began a career, found a wife, and started a family. and in the process, petey became a part of our family, treated like the first grandchild and nephew.

I like to think that petey knew it was time for him to move on...that he understood that he had done all he could for my brother, and my brother all he could for petey. I like to think that when larry told him goodnight his look was meant to convey what petey could not write..."tell him I'm sorry for leaving this way, but I loved him as no dog has before loved his companion. tell him I will miss him, and he will miss me, but that it is better this way. that I am tired, and I have done all I can for him. and tell him how grateful I am to have found such a beautiful home during my time here and that I will be waiting for him."

I like to think that as petey closed his eyes to sleep that night he was transported back to that first summer, when they were inseparable and a bond that can only exist between man and dog was formed, and he was truly happy. I like to think that he awoke in the farmhouse with grandma and grace, who promptly introduced him to grandpa before letting him loose in the yard to chase the rabbits and terrorize the mice in the barn, and that he'll be there when my brother comes to pick him up and take him home again...and he'll probably have eaten the pie off the windowsill.

mostly, I just like to think they are all happy...which is why I'll keep hoping, for their sake, that there is a heaven...