Eric’s grandpa passed away on Friday. He’d been in congestive heart failure for a year, so it was not unexpected. But we didn’t expect it last Friday. That was hard.
Calling hours were Monday. I really hate calling hours. They feel so … heavy. You are there, all sad, and other people come with their sad, and we all stand around sad. And yet, every single person asked, or was asked, “How are you doing?” To which they replied, “Good, really.” Or “You know, doing pretty well.” Except we’re standing in a funeral home, and it’s just that we haven’t seen each other for a long time that makes us say that. Because, just then, nobody’s particularly good or well or whatever. Not really.
Also, I find calling hours hard, because I don’t feel sad much during the calling hours. They are something to DO, so I do them. But because I’m doing them, I put off feeling much. So it’s weird.
The funeral, on the other hand, is good and hard and good. It’s not for doing. It’s for remembering and honoring. I like that part. But it’s hard. Because final goodbyes are just plain hard. The last time you’ll see that face. The deep sadness of people you care about. It all comes spilling out, and it’s hard. So very hard.
But it’s also good. Because as was said in Steel Magnolias, “Laughter through tears is one of my favorite emotions.” And we did laugh. Because Grandpa Powell loved to laugh. And his humor lives on in his family.
And then there was Timmy, whose age-four-ness is also good and hard and good. So when the pastor announced during the funeral that the mic was now open for people to come share memories about Grandpa Powell, this happened:
Tim: Mom, when I go up there, I’m going to take off all my clothes except my underwear. Then everyone will laugh.
Me: Tim, you are not going up there.
Instead, Uncle Chuck spoke, then my MIL, then Eric’s cousin Morgan. And as Morgan was going up to share, Tim continued.
Tim: (looking very annoyed) Hey, I had my hand up before him.
I shared his comments after the goodbyes had been said and the funeral directors were preparing the casket for transport. He may have not actually taken off his clothes, but he definitely brought laughter to those who were so sad just then. And that was good.
So good and hard and good. I guess much of life is like that. The kids played ball last night. Alex’s team won. Erin & Megan’s team played well but lost. Good and hard and good.
Both of my in-laws and my dad are retiring this summer. Good and hard and good.
I’m trying to pursue a more purposeful life. Good and hard and good.
And every day, I find God’s goodness in the land of the living. Because even though life is hard, God is good. It doesn’t always feel good. Like in funeral homes and ball game losses. But it is good. Because we connect. Because we laugh. Because He is with us.
And because, today, we are alive. And that is good and hard and good.
