Requiem

My grandmother's memorial service was tasteful and simple. My father and the two of his three brothers who attended, each spoke anecdotally about her wit, her sensibilities, her utter ineptitude in the kitchen, and her pride in being the mother of sons.

I saw my father as a broken man, mourning the only woman he's ever adored. I also saw that for all of my legitimate issues with him, that I have not helped the situation by relating to him out of anger. I think that I can still insist on respect, not let myself be emotionally man-handled, and meet him half way.

I remembered, being there with my family, who I am in the scheme of things. Being with my uncles and my grandparents as a child, I felt such a sense of possibility and pride, because I belonged to a name--even though I have never carried that name, legally speaking. The reason is too complex to go into here--and in truth, is beside the point.

My mother arrived, due to a snarl in traffic, very late. The service was actually over, but everyone was still there--so I got to see my mother and father in the same room for the first time in 24 years.

Things will always occur just as they should.

In my heart, when I heard about my grandmother's passing, I thought "Gordon, come with me [to the service]."
The following day, without any prompting from me, he offered to drive me if I needed him to do so. Unfortunately, when I decided to take him up on the offer, his car died.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that he was supposed to be there. I prayed to make peace with his inability to accompany me, for God to provide another means that would be perfect. I did what I could to make other arrangements, but nothing felt right.

Sarah actually called him on Friday and asked him if he would consider borrowing a car to take me--she let him know that I had not asked her to do this, that I would not ask him... but that she knew I was stressed and agitated, and asked him to consider it. She did this out of love for me, also believing that he was supposed to be there.

The day came and went with no word from him, so I knew that whatever was going on--it was something that couldn't be helped. I went to bed believing that that was the end of the story. Until the phone rang at 11:30. It was him saying he'd borrowed his parents' car, and would pick me up at noon the following day. He did not mention that Sarah telephoned him.

So, in the course of one afternoon, he met everyone in my life that has ever been important to me, including my very flamboyant, over the top mother (and her quasi boyfriend). Something indescribable happened in my heart when I saw my uncles shaking his hand, and later hugging him... to see my father very kindly thanking him for being there.

One of my uncles said "you know, we have a lot of Gordons in our family..."

Later that night, on the phone with my mother, she couldn't stop talking about how much she liked him. She described his spirit as being beautiful, she remarked further that there is something about him that just "drew" her, and she also loved the warmth and openness of his smile.