My sweet, sweet Grandma Cooksey passed away a week ago. It is hard for me to imagine her no longer on Earth. If there was ever a strong woman on this planet who defined unconditional love, it was my Grandma. I love her so deeply. Though knowing I will see her again in Heaven brings absolute comfort, I would be lying if I didn't say there was a feeling of emptiness in my life.
Last week was the biggest emotional roller coaster I've ever been on. My Dad, my Grandma's baby, called me late Thursday afternoon, letting me know that Grandma had taken a turn for the worst. We flew out to be with her first thing Friday morning. There is no way I could have been prepared for the way she looked. She looked tired. She looked ready to be back with Grandpa, and I don't blame her. After almost 94 years of rocking and raising babies, preparing magnificent feasts and desserts, giving hugs, wiping away tears, smoothing hair, and sewing, knitting, or crocheting the most beautiful masterpieces, it was time. She was tired.
There was an undeniable love and peace present among my family members as we watched the matriarch of our family slowly weaken. It's a hell of a thing to watch a breath, not knowing if there will be another one to follow it. Then feeling like it was time for the last breath to happen and just waiting for it, but hoping the breathing never stops. After Grandma's last breath, the greatest expression of peace was on her face, and that will be imprinted in my heart forever.
I am grateful and blessed to belong to the family I was born into. Absolutely and completely blessed. We all have been through so much, and yet we still found time to laugh, tell stories, and share memories of the woman who made and held our family together. It was her most divine creation.
I had the opportunity to speak at the funeral, and I am so thankful for that opportunity. For friends and family, here is what I said:
Note for those who were present: I only took notes for my speech. I had a general order with 2 specific passages I wanted to read verbatim. Everything else came from my mind and my heart, and that may be reflected in inconsistencies below. Regardless, the message is the same.
"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 1 Cor 13:4-7, 13 ESV
It feels a bit strange to be reading the love verse at a funeral, but Grandma, to me, was the ultimate example of unconditional love. She had a way of loving each of us to the core. There was a time in my life almost six years ago to the date when I was asked to think of an example of unconditional love. I had been shrouded in darkness, and though I knew my parents loved me, this question of unconditional love provided one answer. My Grandma. I knew then that no matter what I was doing, she was hundreds of miles away loving me wholly and completely. She loved all of us wholly and completely. And she still does.
I was a lap child growing up. I loved sitting on my Dad's lap, but more than that I loved sitting on my Grandma's lap. I have hundreds of memories of me walking into her living room on Ann Street and watching her tap her knees lightly as an invitation to sit on her lap. A sit on Grandma's lap meant tracing the veins in her hands while her arms were wrapped tightly around me. It meant my back being rubbed and my hair being smoothed as only she could do. One of the saddest days for me was the day I was too big to sit on Grandma's lap. I treasured those moments then as much as I treasure them in my heart today.
There was a time I made a trip to Illinois to visit Grandma and Grandpa with Ryan on the train. Ryan was sleeping in the basement, and I was assigned to the back bedroom. I was scared of my own shadow as a child, and the prospect of sleeping alone in the back bedroom left me terrified. I will never forget Grandma coming in to tuck me into bed one final time. This time she was in her night gown, her teeth were out, and her night cap was on. She knew I was scared and asked if I wanted her to sleep with me. Of course I did, so she obliged.
It has been an honor to love and care for Grandma this week, like she has always loved and cared for us. I'd like to close with a passage from an essay by Kelly Corrigan in her book, The Middle Place:
"We’ll bury our mothers and our fathers {and our Grandmothers}—shuttling our children off for sleepovers, jumping on red eyes, telling each other stories that hurt to hear about gasping, agonal breaths, hospice nurses, scars and bruises and scabs and how skin papers shortly after a person passes. We will nod in agreement that it is as much an honor to witness a person come into the world as it is to watch a person leave it."
Grandma, I miss and love you more than words justify. You are the light in my eyes and the beat of my heart, and I cannot wait to see you again. Give Grandpa and Jesus hugs and kisses for me, and I 'll see you all again.
