(Repeatedly to my sister-in-law, as if it were her doing) "This is a good party! These are beautiful flowers."
(As a large man walked into the viewing room) "Boy! He ate his mush!" Cue Grandpa's smacking her in the face with his program. ;)
(As an African American woman with long dreadlocks walked into the viewing room) "Johnny, look at the hair on that darky!" I still contend that old people are allowed to be racist because they don't know any better. So rather than cringe as you would with a middle-aged or younger person, you have to chuckle a bit-- except in this case, where, I assure you, the woman heard.
Anyway, some great things were said at her funeral. How she was incredibly service-oriented, adored her children and grandchildren, and how she had an unmatched sense of humor and love of throwing parties and dressing people up. In the end, there were far more laughs than tears at her funeral. I think that's a mark of a truly special, unique person.
I finally started crying when my dad talked about Grandpa's reaction to Grandma's death. He was a lost puppy, and understandably so! They had been married for 72 years, eight months, and had dated for three years. He was miserable and didn't know what to do with himself. Fortunately for him, however, and unfortunately for us, he only had to suffer his loss for 19 days. He, John Elliott, died on Wednesday, October 23rd. His funeral was yesterday.
The last conversation I had with Grandpa was at the luncheon after Grandma's funeral. As I said good-bye to him (I knew it was my actual good-bye for life, though I treated it more to him as a "see you later"), he said "Jaynee, I hear you got married recently. I was married for 72 years!" He is a quiet man, so I couldn't hear exactly what he said next, but I caught the word "happy." He either said "I was very happy," "I hope you are as happy," or gave me advice, such as "You have to work at it to be happy." All three messages were received and taken to heart at his funeral yesterday.
His entire life was caring for my grandma. He built her a house, and, apart from about 2 years, beginning a year into their marriage, when he fought in WWII, he never left her side nor the tiny town of Iona where both were raised and married. Grandpa was a quiet and simple man while my grandmother had what he called "go-itis," constantly needing to go out and do things. He took her wherever she needed, even in the last few years as her mind suffered but her body did not, and his body suffered but his mind did not. He fought to keep up with her and care for her.
These deaths were very sad for us -- Iona, Idaho was a big part of our childhood, as were our Grandma and Grandpa Elliott. Now all three are gone until we go. They left us with very important lessons about marriage, though. At my grandpa's funeral in particular, the emphasis was on their life together (they didn't really have lives outside of each other. 72 years!). In my dad's talk, the phrase, said by my uncle to my dad the day Grandpa died, was repeated: "It's a love story." Some lessons I learned from my grandparents are these:
It doesn't matter how different you and your spouse are, as long as you are both willing to serve each other and work hard at it.
Love is perfect when you love and serve constantly.
It's okay to laugh at yourself -- please do!
Pet names can go a long way (my grandpa called my grandma "Bobby," and she called him "Shawn." we never figured out the Shawn thing).
Do what you are passionate about. Support your spouse in pursuing his/her passions.
BE HAPPY.
On a final note, here's a song a coworker on my team sent to the rest of us. He said it was very touching, and he was not wrong:
I listened to this all week, and it shows really well the feelings I have about my grandparents. :)
