"A little bit of this,
a little bit of that."
Many times, I had walked past the furneral home. Never had I stepped within. Yet there I was inside the doors. The dim lighting seemed to set the mood upon entrance, but lit up as I lifted my head and gazed forward.
An unusual sight it was; a small group of people sitting on chairs conversing while others chose to stand and chat. It became clearer to me that this was honoring a well lived life, rather than a somber passing. As my family and I walked towards the front of the room, a woman with a kind face and straight light blond hair approached us. "You must be the old neighbors," she said with a smile clear with appreciation, " she loved talking about your family."
Mrs. Duris looked the same to me. Her pale honey hair slightly thinner, but still the same curled around. Dressed in a calm florescent green outfit, she lied peacefully as if she was telling us a message with what she wore. The color green brings comfort. Of course, I'm not even sure whether she picked her clothes prior to her passing or those at the morgue did, but still, it was a sweet gesture of thought. Her hands were folded neatly with her aged fingers wrapped around a crucifix. There is no doubt that this wonderful woman is home.
At first, going over to her was difficult. I got this sort of empty feeling inside, knowing Mrs. Duris was not there in front of me, but just a body. I never lost anyone close to me, but when I listened to my mom's message about her earlier today, it made my stomach flip and heart sink. Once it all came down on me, the memories of her rush forward and reminscence flooded the mind. As the official babysitter of my youth, she holds a special place as a person who never thought of herself, only others. According to my mom, Mrs. Duris was the kind of person who never refused to comply when a favor was asked. Just last week, I wondered where she was and encouraged my mom to call her. She said it was peculiar how this last Christmas, Mrs. Duris didn't send us her usual annual holiday card. While I wondered this, Mrs. Duris was already resting peacefully in her sleep and onward to above.
Later after warm conversations, I felt much better. It was apparent through the stories of loved ones that Mrs. Duris had a wonderfully complete life, yet here I was crying with a wry smile of rememberance of all the good things she did.
I don't have a sophisticated way to say this, but I'm sad at the fact that I will never get to see Grandma Margaret again in this life. The last time I saw her was about five years ago at my baptism and the next will be someday when I too go home. When that time comes, we'll watch Michelle Kwan re-runs, snack on her homemade cookies, play scrabble on the computer, and skip across the floors of heaven.
In heaven, I promise not to be a picky eater.
Although I am most certain you will;
Rest in Peace
Margaret M. Duris
(1921-2009)
a little bit of that."
Many times, I had walked past the furneral home. Never had I stepped within. Yet there I was inside the doors. The dim lighting seemed to set the mood upon entrance, but lit up as I lifted my head and gazed forward.
An unusual sight it was; a small group of people sitting on chairs conversing while others chose to stand and chat. It became clearer to me that this was honoring a well lived life, rather than a somber passing. As my family and I walked towards the front of the room, a woman with a kind face and straight light blond hair approached us. "You must be the old neighbors," she said with a smile clear with appreciation, " she loved talking about your family."
Mrs. Duris looked the same to me. Her pale honey hair slightly thinner, but still the same curled around. Dressed in a calm florescent green outfit, she lied peacefully as if she was telling us a message with what she wore. The color green brings comfort. Of course, I'm not even sure whether she picked her clothes prior to her passing or those at the morgue did, but still, it was a sweet gesture of thought. Her hands were folded neatly with her aged fingers wrapped around a crucifix. There is no doubt that this wonderful woman is home.
At first, going over to her was difficult. I got this sort of empty feeling inside, knowing Mrs. Duris was not there in front of me, but just a body. I never lost anyone close to me, but when I listened to my mom's message about her earlier today, it made my stomach flip and heart sink. Once it all came down on me, the memories of her rush forward and reminscence flooded the mind. As the official babysitter of my youth, she holds a special place as a person who never thought of herself, only others. According to my mom, Mrs. Duris was the kind of person who never refused to comply when a favor was asked. Just last week, I wondered where she was and encouraged my mom to call her. She said it was peculiar how this last Christmas, Mrs. Duris didn't send us her usual annual holiday card. While I wondered this, Mrs. Duris was already resting peacefully in her sleep and onward to above.
Later after warm conversations, I felt much better. It was apparent through the stories of loved ones that Mrs. Duris had a wonderfully complete life, yet here I was crying with a wry smile of rememberance of all the good things she did.
I don't have a sophisticated way to say this, but I'm sad at the fact that I will never get to see Grandma Margaret again in this life. The last time I saw her was about five years ago at my baptism and the next will be someday when I too go home. When that time comes, we'll watch Michelle Kwan re-runs, snack on her homemade cookies, play scrabble on the computer, and skip across the floors of heaven.
In heaven, I promise not to be a picky eater.
Although I am most certain you will;
Rest in Peace
Margaret M. Duris
(1921-2009)
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