Heritage and Memorials

My Gramma's funeral was held in the small town that our ancestors settled back in the 19th century.  In fact, her funeral was held in the church our ancestors built when they arrived here from Ireland.  It was the same church in which she was baptized and married.  Her nephew is now the priest who officiates at the church and performed her service on Saturday.  Quite a special memorial, for sure.

This was the church as it stood in the 1930s.  My Gramma and Grampa's wedding day.

And this is it as it stood on Saturday May 7th, 2011

I made the long trek by myself (my family had all left the night before and J. stayed home with the twins) to this town in Northern Ontario on Saturday to say goodbye to Gramma and to see all the relatives I so seldom get to see.

Not being entirely confident in where I was headed and not able to find the address of the church on my GPS, I left quite early in order to ensure that I found my way and was on time.  I was two hours early.  I parked the car and decided to walk around the church taking pictures.  A small cemetery behind the church holds the grave sites of the family members gone before my Gramma. My Grampa, great grandparents, great-great grandparents, aunts, uncles, infant children who died in their first year of life, etc. all rest here.  To see my last name(s) throughout the cemetery on almost every tombstone was eerily beautiful.  I don't know of any other family who is able to gather in one cemetery as we can and trace the roots of their heritage right back to the year of immigration from Ireland.   So amazing.

Soon, other family members arrived and proceeded to walk through the cemetery as I had.  Gathering at the entrance, we marveled at the history before us.

The service was lovely and the church was completely full with friends and family who came to pay their last respects.  My dad and my uncle were the two people primarily responsible for putting everything together and I know my Gramma would have been tickled pink by the love that went into everything that was done for her funeral and reception.  Of course, there was sadness and it was especially sad to talk with one of her two surviving siblings (Gramma was one of 13) who expressed her sadness with eloquence. Another sad moment came when my Grampa's brother told us he was the only one left of the bridal party (he was best man at my grandparents' wedding).

Life goes on and I hugged Chick and Pea extra tight when I got home.  I know it's natural to think of one's own mortality when someone dies, but knowing that my babies may one day plan and orchestrate my funeral made my heart sad.  I hope for so many things by that day.  I hope they know me, that they have lived long enough to feel as though they got everything they needed from me.  That they can lean on each other as my brother and I do when faced with something like this.  That they have faith in something that helps them deal with loss.  I hope for so much.