I’m not exactly sure how to start this post, but I know I want to remember it. Forever.
Saturday was the marked funeral for my beloved Grandma Deon Hitchcock. A day that I will never forget. Hopefully.
Growing up I remember my Grandma always being so kind and loving. Someone who would correct my grammar every time I would see her. She loved to garden and plant flowers. Every birthday we got a homemade card signed by her with a small written note. She never forgot a birthday. Not a single one. Ever.
I enjoyed playing at my Grandma’s house as a little girl. Grandma would always read me a story or let me smell her flowers.
Over the last two years, I would call my Grandma often. Mostly to talk about canning and the correct way to process food. I began to love canning and being a homemaker. I knew it was important to her and it became important to me as well the more I talked to her. Grandma always knew the answer to my questions and was eager to help me in any way possible. One night I called her asking about bottled beets. The discussion quickly got changed from bottling beets to bottling three different kinds of pickles and then onto tomatoes. I asked her if she would kindly e-mail me some recipes.
About a week went by and I received an e-mail from her. To my surprise, at the bottom of the e-mail was a small note. Nothing extravagant, but something that I enjoyed reading and hearing very much.
Grandma writes, “Natalie, I hope you have good luck with your canning. I have loved this season of the year, even when I was pregnant or had young children. It is very satisfying to be able to see shining jars of home bottled things. Love you, Grandma H. call me, if you need help.”
For the last few years, I have really enjoyed canning. Maybe this is a trait I inherited from my Grandmother. I’d like to think she’s proud of my efforts when it comes to canning. And hopefully proud of other accomplishments as well.
……………
The call came from my father on Saturday, around 12:30 p.m. Marked silence in the background when I answered. “Hello.” No Answer. “Dad?” With a quiver in his voice he said, “She’s gone.”
I tried to be tough by holding back tears, but a few came. Was she really gone? I walked into the laundry room to talk. The boys were in the kitchen and I didn’t want them to know I was crying.
Colby came in and gave me a hug. The floods came….
I tried to go back into the kitchen and finish eating with the boys. I explained to Trevin that Grandma Deon had passed away. Immediately the questions came. He wanted to know why she died, what happened, and then when he was going to die. As a little child, he didn’t understand death completely and it was a different subject to talk about. I ate a few more bites of my food, but couldn’t hold back the tears. Slowly I walked away from the kitchen table and into my bedroom. I sat on the floor and cried. I just wanted some time to be alone.
I looked out my bedroom window and saw Mt. Nebo covered in snow. The white snow reminded me somewhat of heaven. I felt a calm feeling come over me and it was evident to me that I would see my Grandma again. Someday.
The rest of the day was a blur for me. Nothing on my “To Do” list was completed and I was fine with that.
……………
On Friday, we traveled to Springville for the viewing. Without knowing what feelings I was going to feel, we entered the room. I was scared to go see her. Why? I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t really want to believe it. My Dad came over and gave me the biggest bear hug. I cried some more and didn’t want to let him go. After that, I was fine the rest of the night.
Many old friends and family members came to pay their respects to my Grandma. It was fun to see a lot of old faces from my neighborhood growing up in Springville. I reminisced about growing up next to the Gardner family and living so close to both sets of Grandparents. Those were the good ol’ days.
…………….
The day of the funeral we were late. Like always. I was frustrated that we weren’t going to make it to the family prayer in time and I desperately wanted to be there. I kept telling Colby to drive faster and “hurry up.” We made it to the church and sat down in the Relief Society Room. There were so many people there, but I really only saw one face. My peaceful Grandma.
In the array of people, I had a perfect view of her from where I was sitting. I talked to her silently in my head. I told her how much I loved her and how much I was going to miss her. I know she heard me….
The funeral service was one of the most spiritual things I have ever witnessed. I could feel her presence and her love for all of us. The love between her and my Grandfather is something I admire and something I aspire to achieve with Colby. I could feel the love my Grandma had for my Grandpa and likewise. They truly loved each other.
Although the service went longer than planned, I wished it would have went longer. I could have listened to my Grandpa talk all day about his beloved wife, the stories about their marriage, their struggles, and the blessings that come from being a member of the church.
One thing that my Grandpa talked about was “The Most Important Relationship.” That relationship is the relationship you have with your spouse. I am dedicated to making the relationship I have with Colby the greatest and most cherished one. I am dedicated to supporting him just like my Grandma supported my Grandpa. I pray I can love him all the days of my life and cherish the good times as well as the bad. There is no other person I love more in this world than my husband.
…………….
Below is the talk that my Grandma wanted my Dad to read at the funeral. Rachelle actually read it, but the words are still the same:
no comments