The funeral

I hated a room full of people sitting around my grandpas death bed taking selfies with him. There I said it...I just hated that. I didn't want to remember my grandpa that way, half there, half dead and starving to death in a hospital gown with people grinning like idiots  around his hospital bed. I just wanted to see him make silly faces and tell him again about what he had to look forward to if he trusted in the forgiveness of God. That this moment ..... this weak death bed moment where you cant even get up to use the bathroom could soon be replaced by another moment so brilliantly different. 

He said "Can I have some coffee?" and my grandmother agreed to let him have a cup even though he hadn't had food or liquids in more than a week. My uncle went to the kitchen to try and figure out how to use their coffee maker. 10 minutes later, Leo was saying "I just want a simple cup of coffee, I asked three days ago!". I told him I'd heard the  service here was really slow. . I eventually  got up to leave and stopped by my grandpa and told him, to the awkwardness of the cousins around me,..."I'll see you on the other side Grandpa"...It was all I could think of in the moment. I didn't want to say goodbye. I was still hoping that the same God who miraculously had showed up and worked all this time would save him. He said "I won't be there, will you be there?" I told him eventually I would and to look for me. He agreed.  Now I just leave my anxiety at the cross and  and trust God with the rest. I'm amazed at the attempts He makes to rescue us despite us, we certainly are a stiff necked people.

When he was buried it was raining and cold and I wore the wrong shoes. My heels were sinking into the  soft burial  grounds I trekked over trying to get inside  the waiting half tent that would semi shelter us from the rain and wind.. We stood under this tent with astro turf and fold up chairs as they lowered his casket into the ground. Darby and Cooper were wearing suits and I imagined by their expressions this would be a moment that would be etched in their memory forever.  There was a wheelbarrow full of dirt and two shovels adjacent to his grave where family and friends could line up and toss a heap of dirt on his grave. A few times we'd notice the shovel was upside down, the backside f the shovel facing up and the next person in line would use the backside of the shovel to scoop the dirt up with and toss on. It happened maybe 4 or 5 times . Later at Shiva, my nephew Alex would ask "whats the significance of the shovel being used backwards?" I wish'd I'd had some symbollic historically rooted answer, but the truth was, as I told him then, ... we're just a bunch of Jews who didn't know how to properly handle a shovel...how often do you see Jews shoveling afterall?" The only time I can think of Jews shoveling was by compulsion in Nazi Germany, and they were digging their own graves. We haven't taken up shoveling since.

My mom was too sick to attend her fathers funeral, so she livestreamed from the hospital in Ann Arbor.  So many people told us how sorry they were at the service. I felt so lucky to have had my grandpa with us for so long. 93 years! I was sad my mom had to miss it.  He died peacefully , she was in agony. He had a wife and kids he loved. She had a long list of exhusbands she didnt love. He ate pie for meals. She hadn't eaten in months. He had a good life, she was never content.  He flirted with nurses, cracked jokes, and sang songs. She asked the nurses why they kept asking her questions they should know. I hadnt seen her smile since the summer. There was nothing to be sorry for as far as my grandpa was concerned. Its the way everyone can hope to go when their time comes. I pray my mom receives half the comfort he felt , and I pray she accepts Gods fogiveness for her so she wakes up eternally in a completely different state than this one of discontentment she's had for so long.