She Spoke With Her Life

Several years ago I went to the funeral of one of the matriarchs of Fancy Farm.  Someone made this comment about her speaking to us with her life and I thought that was one of the best compliments anyone could be given.

I went to the funeral of another matriarch in our community today.  She was a matriarch to her brothers and sisters, her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and anyone else she deemed family.

All through the funeral this quote kept coming back to me.  She did speak with her life.  She always had.

The family wanted this to be a celebration of her life.  And they wanted it simple.  I went, prepared to cry my heart out, and found myself smiling throughout.  Even though I got teary-eyed a time or two (I mean, who doesn’t get teary-eyed when Lacy sings the “Ave Maria”), I never shed a tear.  I was sad that she was gone.  But I was so glad that she had been in my life.  I’m one of those who considered her family.

She was one of the oldest amongst her brothers and sisters.  And for all of these years she had remained so close to her brothers and sisters.  She worked daily for over 30 years with her brother and a couple of sisters, a daughter, a daughter-in-law, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.  So many to count.  But she loved them.  And she was extremely loyal to them.  And she was always overly protective of them.  All.

She and her husband spent most of their time together.  Even when she was working, he was working.  They had different jobs.  They complimented each other so well.  She was strong where he was weak.  He would move mountains for her if she asked.

She had three children that she raised right.  Those children gave her 8 grandchildren.  Those grandchildren gave her great-grandchildren.  She valued each one of them like they were gold.  And she didn’t stop there.  She had so many foster grandchildren, ones that didn’t have grandparents that she decided needed to have a grandmother at times.  I count my children as some of hers.

And it didn’t matter what you were up to, she wanted you to know that she was proud of you for whatever you did.  She supported the arts, and craft fairs, and every fundraiser that approached her.  And it was fun to watch her.  Every year there used to be an auction fundraiser for a school where her grandchildren attended.  She might not have bought everything that she bid on but she made sure that it brought what it was worth.  And there were times that it wasn’t worth much at all.  But she made sure that she bid it up high enough that it made the fundraiser extremely successful.

She came to everything that you invited her to.  I don’t know how many birthday parties we asked her to and she didn’t care if there were 3 kids or 20 kids there.  She came.  And she laughed and watched every move those kids were making.  It didn’t matter how young or old they were.  Every once in a while you would catch her eye and she would just grin, in a knowing way.  It was then that you knew that she had the patience of a saint.

Don’t get me wrong.  I remember she could get worked up about something that was going on that she didn’t particularly like.  She wasn’t shy about voicing her opinion.  In a lot if ways you would think that she was a nice, quiet woman.  And she was.  Until her feathers got ruffled.  Then she made sure you knew what she was thinking.  Personally, I always liked those conversations with her.  In a lot of ways she voiced what we all were thinking.

And when it was time to go, when time had tired her out too much, she went out on her terms.  Her grandson told me that she had talked with him on the phone and told him that those doctors didn’t know what they were talking about.  She felt fine. They were making too much of a fuss.  The day she died she said she wanted to go lie down.  She did.  She wasn’t feeling well so she hollered for her husband to come in there with her.  He did.  He sat with her, praying the Rosary, until she was gone.  I can’t think of any better way to go than with the man you have loved for almost 60 years praying you straight into heaven.

She told the kids not to make such a fuss.  And they didn’t.  But they sent her out with joy.

The thing about matriarchs, time takes them but also makes them.  Even though she is no longer here with us, her wisdom will live on in the experience of having had her in our lives.