So, my very last grandparent died earlier this week. It made me sad. I cried a little. Then life just continued on as usual.
That's really the way it has always been each time one of my grandparents died.
My
Nana, who I was probably closest to out of the four of them, was the
first to die. I remember walking to class at Biola after hearing the
news, I was 19 at the time, and feeling really, really sad. I thought
about her a lot those days, but did not mourn deeply. It wasn't until I
took a counseling class on grief - 18 years later - that the reality of
her passing really hit me and I was able to properly grieve my loss.
As
a missionary kid I grew up primarily living very far away from Nana +
Papa and Nan + Grandad. We prayed for them every day and were always
excited when a letter arrived from them. When I was a kid we didn't make
international phone calls, it was too expensive, so there were long
spans of time where we didn't hear their voices. I'm blessed in that we
did live in New Zealand for three different seasons of my life - seven
years in all - and I was able to build a real relationship with each of
them. But then, we would always leave. I missed a lot of whatever their
lives were like.
After moving to the USA my memories of
each of them was limited to a few short weeks on trips I made it back
to visit. However, Nana died after we'd only been gone for 2 years, so
my last memory of her is a snapshot of her crying at the airport as we
left for good. I wonder if she felt the deep physical pain then that I
feel now each time I say goodbye to my family?
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| Papa and Nana Yarrall |
I was only 19 when Nana died. In the many years since
I've thought of so many questions I wish I had asked her. She was a
godly, wise woman and I've deeply regretted the loss of her presence in
my life.
The last time I saw my Papa his mind was no
longer what it used to be, so he wasn't the Papa I remembered. That was a
huge loss, but strange because he was still there. It was never the
same to visit him like it had been when I was a kid. I guess in a sense
he died before his body did.
My Grandad died during the
first year I was living here in Colombia. Not only was I far from NZ, I
was also far from all other family members. I know I didn't mourn his
death properly. It was hard not to see him the last few times I visited
New Zealand. I missed him teasing me and giving me rough hugs. But I
also don't think I ever really knew or understood him too well. His life
as a farmer in rural NZ was so very, very different from my life living
in crazy, big and somewhat sophisticated cities around the world.
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| Grandad and Nan Comins |
And now my Nan is gone. She was always kind to me.
Not a big talker, I don't think we ever had any heart-to-heart
conversations. But she was good. Lots of simple, but kind actions
towards me. I had a little coin collection, she had a big one, when we
visited she would go to her stash and find treasures to share with me! I
always felt like she cared about what I was up to and did what she
could to be in the know.
I'm glad we celebrated her
90th birthday with her. I'm glad we had those few days with her back in
2008. I only wish I could have shared more daily life with her.
Living
on the opposite side of the globe has just made relationships with our
extended family more complicated. It has been a sacrifice on both sides
of the Pacific, for us in leaving and them in letting us go. It is much
harder to build memories together and make connections that go deeper
than the shared genes. With some of my grandparents, aunties, uncles and
cousins it has happened effortlessly and the bonds are strong, but with
others... well, it is just a lot harder.
I wouldn't
trade my life, growing up in a different country than my parent's home
country, for anything. It is part of who I am and I can't imagine
anything different. But I am sad that I didn't get to share more of
life, time and space with my grandparents. I don't like trying to grieve
their loss far away in a place that is so foreign to all my memories of
them.
Like the other three deaths, this one will probably not be properly mourned until I visit New Zealand again.
