Today, in Australia, at 11.30 a.m., my grandmother’s funeral took place. I would have liked to have attended, but it was impossible to get there in time. I am told it was a full mass, and there was some laughter to be heard at various stories told of her life in the eulogies, and that they chose some lovely photographs for the programme, even including her infamous recipe for cheese straws on the back page.
Tonight, though, my heart goes out to my father, and his siblings, whose sorrow I can scarce imagine. I long to be able to offer words of comfort, but nothing appropriate comes to mind.
I should like to be able to spend some time with my father, even if its in silence, so he could know how much I care for him, and how much I loved my grandmother, even if I was unable to spend much time with her these last ten years. As an adult, I strived to get to know my grandmothers better and had endeavoured to forge stronger relationships with them. Unfortunately, my paternal grandmother’s deafness in later years meant I was unable to communicate easily with her over the miles, but I did my best (it just never felt like enough).
Of course, Grandma’s passing doesn’t mean I will stop talking to her. I will keep a photograph of her at home and, from time to time, I’ll take a moment to remember her, as I do my grandfathers.
So, today, my heart is in Australia, with my grieving family whom I hold dear, despite the physical distance between us.