I realize it’s been a good while since I last blogged, and regret to inform you all that this blog is closely related to the last, so if you’re looking for a pick me up, you might want click out. Not to say that this is going to be depressing, I just want to talk about death. No biggie.
My day started today with every possible intention of getting up early to get ready, to eat breakfast, drink tea, and just sit and go over in my head the day I was about to have while I pet my cat. To much disappointment and a rousing chorus of “ah damn it”’s after realizing I had overslept, I put on a terrible pink ACU shirt complete with flip flops and way too baggy jeans only to get EVERY BIT OF IT SOAKED due to the monsoon that hit Abilene at 7am. Anyways, I got to school ready to tutor my brilliant young and aspiring musicians while trying not to FRIKKIN FREEZE to death. The day came and went as Fridays usually do. I went to cracker barrel and bought a wreath for my front door, came home and cleaned up, made myself a dinner of salad and stuffed mushrooms, and then made the fatal mistake of deciding to watch the finale of Six Feet Under. It is a series about a family owned funeral home and it is the most real, provocative, and beautiful piece of cinema I believe I have ever come across. Yes I did use all those adjectives.
I watched this entire season 2 summers ago by means of a very tight and strict cycle. Everyday was the same: wake up, work out, take shower, remain in towel, get food, get in bed, pop in a vicodin, watch an episode or 3, take nap, eat food (still in my towel btw), watch more episodes, take another vicodin, go to sleep, repeat. I had a lot of dental work done that summer which explains the painkillers. Actually that’s a lie I’d make a candy necklace out of vicodin if I could.
Anyways, sticking to a routine like that forms a special kind of relationship like it would with a person. Relationships can only be achieved by pursuit and time. I was in full pursuit of this series and never realized the lasting impact it would have on me. I know it’s “just a tv show”, but it was created by brains, hearts, and souls that cohesively bred this piece of art to touch the lives of its viewers and more importantly the lives that have known loss.
After I watched this finale again, after sobbing for the entire episode, I began to dwell and ponder over a death I feel I haven’t truthfully grieved over nor even really expected to. It is the death of my Great-Grandmother Callie Doughdrill. As you could assume I am named after her and because of this name was bestowed a “connection” to her or whatever you want to call it. Being the namesake which was always intended to be an honor sometimes felt like a burden. Actually a lot of the time it did. Sometimes I felt like I was being presented as a peace offering. My mother would call me sometimes with things like “Nannie is having a sad day, it would mean so much to her if you went to see her.” I forgot to mention that Nannie was in her 100’s. What am I supposed to do and say to a century old woman? And why have I built up such negative feelings about being Nannie’s dose of happiness? Because everything about my relationship with Nannie had nothing to do with what I wanted, which I eventually figured out was the whole point. It was never going to be about what I wanted, and nothing in life EVER will be after you have discovered a Savior that in him holds all things together. After I figure out that I had to suck it up, my perception about my role in Nannie’s life began to change. I started to look forward to seeing her and spending time with her. So many times I drove past her retirement home reaaallllyyy wanting to go to the mall, and halfway down the road would turn around to go in and see her because I could tangibly feel the spirit tugging me to do so. When Nannie finally passed away this May at nearly 103, I felt at peace-it was her time and as far as others were concerned it was well past her time. It was time for her to go. We will always wonder though why she lasted so long? And what exactly was my relationship with her all about?
My times with Nannie, just me and Nannie, were ALWAYS pleasant. She would always want me to sing and we would sing whatever song she wanted. She told really great stories and best of all we would eat chocolate frozen yogurt while I listened as she devoured not only her own but my full cup of yogurt as well. She weighed less than a Chicken Express box but could eat you out of house and home.
After I finished the episode tonight, I got in my car and drove to campus, and then was immediately overwhelmed with grief. I think it was because of the rain. The rain made me remember how when the weather changed Nannie would always get cold and she would be covered in layers of clothes and blankets, and as I was driving I wanted so bad to go visit her because a night like tonight would be one that she would want and need my company. I’ve never felt such a desire to be with her like I did tonight, and that is what makes grieving so hard- that you’re filled with emotion, desire, and regrets that you never expected you would.
As I began to think this all through in my head I was slapped in the face with Matthew 25. That our faith is shown by this: when the homeless man not 100 feet from a Christian university asks for food did we give it to him? that when a friends mother or a friends daughter is constantly hospitalized did we visit them? that when a neighbor is cold did we cover them? That when the elderly who have lost everyone including their own identity did we comfort them and give them hope? Shane Claiborne, a famous radical evangelist often quotes Mother Theresas motto, that we can “do no great things but rather small things with great love”. It is in this realization that I have such affection for my creator, that tugged and wooed and patiently put me into this relationship with my great-grandmother so that I could every now and then feed her when she was hungry, visit her when she was lonely, cover her when she was cold, and give her hope when there seemed there was none. I realize now that I did these things with great love. A love that is so thick in Nannies blood through her 5 generations. A love that I constantly pray would not be diluted by the next generation’s sin and self-righteousness- and ultimately a love that I pray will pass down to another 5.
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