A Going Home

This past Monday my mom called from Vermont with the news that my Uncle Bill had gone to rest a bit before attending a big bash that night with my Aunt Janet. When it seemed that it was past the time when he should be getting ready my aunt went to wake him up. I'm sure you've already figured the rest out...Uncle Bill had died in his sleep during that nap. He was 73. He was overweight, but still active and in good health.

I made arrangements to meet my brother, Chris, at his home in N.J. so we could drive up to Connecticut together. It was nice to spend uninterrupted hours together on the ride.

We met up with my mother at a Chili's restaurant first (where all you Office fans will be happy to note we shared an "awesome blossom...extra awsome". They're pretty horrid actually, greasy and all that:( . ) From there we drove to the funeral home, where my brother ,Jeff, was waiting for us. An impromptu family reunion in the parking lot and then onto the rest of the family inside.

~ My aunt did not expect me to make the trip and since I couldn't make it to my grandmother's funeral this summer, was surprised when I walked in. I was enveloped in those wonderful auntie arms and hugged for a fabulously lengthy time. I treasure hugs. I hadn't seen Aunt Janet or any of the cousins from that family since the last family re-union which was at least 7 years ago! And yet...it might have been yesterday.

~We all connect like there has been no time put between us. God must make that happen. We laugh over old stories and what are now family legends. My family knows how to put the "fun" back in funerals. Later some of us carry over to a local restaurant and keep the laughter going. And then it's on to a cousin's home from the other side of the family who has generously offered to put us all up for the night. Gosh, going home is wonderful.

The next morning Chris and I go to a local florist and pick up mums, pumkins and gourds and head over to the Ellington Cemetary. Our father, who died when I was 8, is buried there among his people. It is a beautiful spot. Actually, Ellington is simply a lovely place to have lived. So many memories rush over me as we drive. While other towns around there have grown and changed so dramatically I have no recognition, good ol' Ellington is still as quaint and lovely as ever.

~We dress up Dad's grave and then our grandparent's. They'll look nice when the funeral party comes with Uncle Bill.

As we walk a few yards away Chris brushes away grass from a small 6"tile sized square imbedded in the ground. We call my mom over, who has met us there. "Look at this. It looks like a pear engraved on this. (We think that's funny, since my mom and sister have The Pear Tree shop and I have Pear tree South.) As my brother further brushes grass away in the upper right corner it says" Mema", the name the grandkids all call my mother. Very strange! We all laugh, my mother a bit nervously. I snap a photo.

~Onto the little steepled clapboard church where my brothers attended nursery school much to my envy at the time. The family are already gathered inside and in the parking lot. We head inside and take our seats, pull out hymnals and open with Amazing Grace. Then the pastor says a sermon deeply imbedded with the gospel. All 4 of Uncle Bill's kids offer words of praise and thanksgiving to their dad. Giving him a send-off he'd of been so proud of. Especially the thanks for making them go to church in their youth to give them the firm footing of Jesus Christ as their savior and the Bible as their guide. Wow!

~ We had to leave for home right after the service, but I'm so grateful for the time I was able to have with everyone. We are planning a new family re-union down by the Snipsic Lake, where we can show a new generation the island with the Indian burial ground, tell the stories of supposed hidden treasure, and boy are there ghost stories! We can share with them what was once family stomping ground. It all took place on Mountain Road, many of us lived there, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents. I lived in the farmhouse my dad grew up in and his mother before him. More cousins lived just a hillside away. It was once pretty much all family land all the way down to the lake and we had free reign. Well, unless the cows were loose...then they had free reign.

I'm especially grateful to you Lord, for the safe travel, and fine, fine fellowship. And for the tiny, happy smirk on Uncle Bill's face that let us know he was seeing the angels come to take him home when he died in such peace. Please be with aunt Janet and the cousins in these coming days....