mmm g'bye

the kids table

...…was a Gram-ism. She used it when saying goodbye to someone or something…like if she offered us something from the fridge that we turned our noses up at for whatever reason (they were usually good reasons – she brought some pretty raunchy lookin’ stuff out of there on a regular basis!), she would take it back with a smile and say “mmm-g’bye!” It had been a while since I heard it from her mouth though, one of those things that went with her clarity of mind. It came flooding back to me, though, as I stood by her open grave. What better a time than this to say it back to her, I realized. So, I did. As I stood over her wooden casket with the sheaves of wheat at the corners as it sat in the ground waiting to be covered with earth, I said “mmm-g’bye” to my mamba.

What a privilege to be able to do that. What I didn’t say in my last post, was that I was on my way to the US for Gram’s funeral. My dad assured me that I didn’t need to, that I shouldn’t feel obligated to, but I knew as soon as I got off the phone with him that I wanted to go. My teammates encouraged me to go, the ticket was reasonably priced, the travel was immeasurably easier since I was in Nairobi, and I was a mess. So I went. As most people I saw said “I didn’t expect that you would come back” I explained to them that I didn’t really have the emotional reserve to deal with this from Africa, from my current place in life. Maybe they understood, maybe they didn’t, but it was what I needed to do, and I’m so very glad I did.

Dad called Monday, I bought my ticket on Tuesday, left Nairobi on Wednesday, arrived Newark Thursday, viewing was Friday, funeral/burial Saturday, drove to St. Louis on Monday. It was a whirlwind week but so good.

The viewing was just that, an open casket viewing at the funeral home in my grandparents’ hometown in NJ for 50 + years. Gram didn’t look herself, or at least her face didn’t. Her hands did though – it was something about the positioning of them, the way they were laid crossed on her stomach… reminded me of the many church services I held her hands through during her time in St. Louis, seizures and all. Many people came and greeted us – well, mostly Gram’s kids – at times it seemed to me us Grandkids were there for moral support – but we needed just as much closure as everyone else who came. Between hugs/handshakes from people who remembered us grandkids from when we were “that small” (a few of which we actually remembered), we sat in the middle in chairs talking and catching up on the goings on of each other’s lives since we last saw each other. Great Uncle Fred busted through the room’s open doors with his walker, movin’ and groovin’ like a spring chicken – can’t believe he’s still goin’ strong! Aunt Ruthie (Gram’s older sister in from Chicago) sat in the armchair closest to the casket – her tears, having already buried not only her husband, but also her son a few years back, now burying her younger sister, came easily. It was Aunt Ruth who Gram got her competitive streak from – Aunt Ruth remembered my name while I gave her a big hug from her son and daughter-in-law living in Nairobi, and she still plays a mean game of Scrabble, so I hear. Flanking the casket and large bouquets of flowers were easels with poster-boards full of photos documenting Gram’s 85 years of life – we had a great time putting them together the night before – laughing and telling stories and even crying when reading love letters Grampa had written to her many moons ago.

The funeral was rich. Highlights as follows:

Hymns:
- I Know That My Redeemer Lives
- How Great Thou Art
- A Mighty Fortress Is Our God
"And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us, we will not fear for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us. The prince of darkness grim, we tremble not for him; his rage we can endure, for lo! his doom is sure; one little word shall fell him."

Scripture:
- Lamentations 3:19-27 "...my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord..."
- Job 19: 23-27 "...I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes - I and not another. How my heart yearns within me!"
- Romans 8 ('nuff said)

It was not what I expected, to be met by God in rich, deep, lasting, timely ways, in a funeral service. I’ll just leave it at that. As we prayed together as a family before the service, God was glorified. In me.

There was the burial. Cold. Tears. Stones. Earth. Mud. Snow. Goodbye.

There was lunch! Reminded me of the warmth and celebration in what I’ve heard of Irish wakes (without the drunkenness). Friends and family packed out the room in a favorite local restaurant of my grandparents’. So packed that the grandkids had to vacate our seats and thereby were awarded the proverbial “kids table” outside the door. In good German tradition there was meat and there were potatoes and there was beer, what more does a celebration need? Well, actually probably most importantly in honor of Gram and Grampa, there was coleslaw and there were pickles – in plenty.

That evening we gathered as an extended family to talk about the weekend, and about Gram and to remind each other of what we loved about her. Again, there were laughs and tears. A particularly special addition to the evening was a partial viewing of the Oglebay video (family reunion footage from a West Virginia site in 1991). Dad’s with hair, mom’s with big sunglasses, grampa manning the camcorder, and Gram always trying to get him to focus in on something/someone in particular. More laughs.

Now, just because we hadn’t quite laughed enough, there was more to come. Saturday night the older grandkids decided to take a few cars into the city for the evening – New York City, that is. A few of us had friends we were trying to meet up with, others just wanted to spend some time in the city. Anyways when we arrived at the street level entrance to the Port Authority Parking Garage around 1:15am, we found ourselves evidently 15 min. late – the parking garage closed at 1am. Since when do NYC parking garages close? Anyways, despite several of our attempts at convincing the guards to let us past to our cars, we hit the streets dumbfounded, looking for somewhere to hang out for the next 4 hours, until 5:30am when the garage opened and we could pick up our cars and head home. We only momentarily considered calling any of our parents for a ride since it was so late and we would have to head back in to pick up the cars so a sigh of relief spread throughout the group when we found a 24 hour McDonalds near Times Square...so, there we sat, upstairs and therefore a bit away from the eye of the staff who we feared would be as adherent to the “no loitering” rules as the parking garage guards…we each bought something – mostly coffee, the cheapest thing on the menu in true Lutjens fashion…what did we do, you might ask? Played games...what games do you play at 3am while sitting on partially-spinny plastic chairs connected to the tables as you find in such fine establishments as McDonalds? I learned a new game, called Contact, from cousin Brad, that I think will be fun to add to our team repertoire...but maybe it's only fun at 3am...needless to say, there were a lot of laughs. And we don't really get the chance to spend time together like that, so Gram would have been proud :) And of all things, as we were leaving to be the first through the garage doors at 5:30, there was a broadcast of a Riverside Church service airing on the radio station as we were putting our coats on. So we walked out of McDonalds listening to Jesus What a Friend for Sinners, and Wade in the Water ☺ SO Gram.

Well, I think that’s enough for now. Probably more than enough, but you know me, always thorough! But before I close, a special shout-out to a few very special people who made the weekend possible. John and Barbara Elwood. John very graciously braved NJ/NY traffic for most of his Thursday afternoon and picked me up from Newark and my sister up from JFK (why we didn’t coordinate our arrivals is, well, a casualty of international family communication or lack thereof). Supposedly they both tell me they “fought” over who got to pick us up, John won evidently, but who fights over driving in the greater NY area? And then despite family health complications of their own, Barbara (who didn’t even know my grandma) very graciously came to the funeral, so I got to hug her too ☺ Thank you both so very very much.