The Shellys. No, the other Shellys

I am not all that well experienced with grief stemming from the loss of a loved one. I have had some great aunts and uncles pass away, some great grandparents when I was younger, a friend of a friend, etc, but no one I considered myself to be overly close with or some one who I considered to have played a major role in my life.

Until yesterday.

My grandmother (who we have always very affectionately called Granny) passed away yesterday morning after a long battle with multiple sclerosis and osteoporosis, among other ailments. It's tough to sort out how I feel about this, especially since it is dealing with personal grief for the first time. On one hand, it is certainly tough knowing that I have seen her for the last time here, and knowing how much she has meant to everyone in our family, myself included. On the other, to know that she is at a place where she can finally experience rest and renewed completeness is a blessing. One of the images that has lifted my spirits over the past 36 hours or so is that of her and her husband, Irwin (who died in 1980 before I was born) laughing and dancing in heaven, joyful in being reunited once more, her body no longer weighed down by broken down bones and muscles but instead renewed and made perfect.

There are many things I will remember about her. The last time I saw her was Easter weekend after hearing things were progressing for the worse. I have learned over the past few years when visiting to not ask how she is - not because she would complain, per se, but it''d be a more pleasant visit for her to hear how things were going for us rather than for us to focus on her. She was faint of voice but still listening intently as I rattled on about the honeymoon, first few months of marriage, new job, etc, and happened to mention something about doing something with some friends. She kind of visibly perked up for the first time, opened her eyes slowly and whispered the question, "Do you consider me to be your friend?" I was taken back for a few seconds by this, and the only way I could think to answer her was by sharing all of my favorite memories of the two of us with her, like:

- If you didn't know, she lived with my family until I was, I don't know, 12 or 13 or so. My parents converted a one-car garage into a pretty nice little "in-law suite" connected to our house via the laundry room.
- Growing up I wandered over to her "side of the house" to play games - so many games of Yahtzee and Parcheesi, as I grew older, Scrabble. She never let me quite win but always willing to bend the rules a little bit for me. She let me return letters and redo turns just so I could make big point moves like "diet."
- She loved the Phillies even though they were pretty horrible for a long time. I would watch many games with her, get frustrated by them losing, just for her to say "Just wait, it's not over yet." I think it's because of her that baseball has become my favorite sport. She loved Harry Kalas and a lot of the players - Pat Burrell has lost the biggest fan he has ever had.
- I remember she had a pet canary or something of the sort and I helped her clean its cage every so often. While doing so she would put the canary in a shoe box and close it. When you're seven, this is hilarious - who puts a bird in a shoe box? We would both laugh about it while layering down some fresh newspaper.
- When she was more mobile, she had a motorized scooter/wheelchair she could take out and about. We would go around the neighborhood, her on her scooter, me on my bike. Every once in a while we would get up to the end of our neighborhood onto a busier street I wasn't allowed to bike on yet. She would have me hide my bike under someones tree in their yard, I'd climb on her scooter and we'd go together to the Dairy Wagon up the road to get ice cream together, just the two of us.
_ I remember her going on vacation with us up to Vermont one summer.
- I remember being sad when we could no longer take care of her as her health declined and she moved into a nursing home.
- There were lots of great visits in the nursing home though. She kept on top of family news as best she could and always was interested in what we doing, whether it was middle school, high school, college, or beyond. She read a lot of the articles I wrote for the high school paper, and maybe some that I wrote for Penn State's Daily Collegian, too. I don't think she always understood what we were up to, but was pleased to hear that we excited about this or that, and happy that we thought to share it with her.
-I told her about Sandy before anyone else in my family (well, on that side of the state, anyways. Ben and Megan probably picked up on things a little before that!). Granny was at my mom and dad's house for a visit on a weekend I was home, perhaps for my cousin's wedding. It was right around when Sandy and I started dating (though we didn't dare call it that yet!). I told her that I was beginning to see this new, pretty girl who just so happened to bake a pretty darn cake, and that I was hoping it'd turn out to be something special. Well, it did! I remember going to see Granny after Sandy and I announced we were engaged. We made sure to keep it under wraps from family (aside from other immediate members) and gave her a picture of the two of us with the words "Engaged December 13, 2008" on it. I will never forget the look on her face - the surprise, the corners of her mouth forming a smile, her eyes glistening with tears. She was so happy, she even let us move the picture of Pat Burrell she had on her door so we could put it in its place (a pretty prime space of door real estate, optimal for viewing and sharing. We knew she was pretty happy and considered it a big deal when we could bump Pat down a spot or two!).

As great as all these memories are, I'll remember her for more than that. Granny is the shining example of faith that I have seen in my life. It would be pretty easy to say that she was dealt a tough hand of card in life - her various, debilitating ailments, a widow for 30 years, the struggles of helping raise a large family - but she wouldn't look at it that way. In everything, her faith was kept strong and strengthened. She often talked about God, and although I know she didn't always understand why she was going through this struggle or that challenge, she prayed continually and gave it over to God. She never once seemed bitter or angry about her life or situations - her faith was rock-solid and centered in God and situationally tossed around. A few years ago, when she had one of her healthscares where her outlook was questionable, I remember visiting her in the hospital. It was just the two of us after the others had said goodbye. She asked me to lean in and if I could do something for her. "Absolutely," I said. She asked me to keep praying for a specific someone very close and near and dear to her heart. This strikes me still - in the hospital, hooked up to machines, not sure what's going to happen, and instead of her focusing on herself ... she was thinking of those she loved, and was more concerned for them than she was for herself.

Granny, in case you're taking a break from dancing to catch up on blogs up in Heaven, I want you to know I love you and miss you. You mean a lot to me, and your faith inspires me to be rooted deeper in Christ, and to not be swayed by situations and doubts and fears. You are my friend but I consider you to be so much more. It is an honor to be your grandson, and I am so thankful for the memories and blessing you have given me. I hope to one day make half the impact on my family and descendants as you have made on yours, to be the shining example of purity of faith and humbleness at heart that you are. Your body may have betrayed you, but you have never betrayed your soul or your faith. I love you. Find peace and rest.