But I can neither say that my spring break was horrible or amazingly terrific. It was adventurous and God-filled, educating, and a deeply bonding experience with family. The first weekend I was home, Grandpa Cox passed away. We knew it would be coming, just not as soon as it did. So I jumped right in with my dad making the arrangements, picking out caskets, planning the funeral, comforting the mourning souls of Grandpa's small community.
Here's the truth: I do grieve my grandpa's passing, I will miss him this July 4th, a time we would normally see him. I will miss his awkward political comments and his voice singing bluegrass hymns. But Grandpa held a lot of himself back from us. We only saw parts of who he was. He never stayed long to visit and we were lucky if we saw him twice a year. He didn't know how to be with us. He spent his entire life being manipulated and used by the people around him, and we never required anything from him, but himself. I think it unnerved him a bit.
In a lot of ways, he was a foolish, ornery man, but he was Grandpa, and when he came, we loved him. He taught us how to play poker on the picnic table in our back yard, he often took us to the playground and out for slurpees at 7-11, and told the same jokes over and over again. He introduced me to the guitar and keyboard and gave to me the gift of music. I will always be grateful for that.
I looked at my dad in the middle of all the arranging last weekend and said, "Can I sing at his funeral?" My dad simply answered, "Honey, we can do whatever we want." We rocked out his funeral service this past weekend down in Grundy, with a full bluegrass band, a hellfire and damnation preacher, and the sharing of stories. The weekend was marred by some money grabbing relatives laying claim to what little money Grandpa had which was supposed to pay for the funeral, but our foolish lovely man, kept some foolish company, so what else can we really expect? I had fun playing my first bluegrass music, with the fine Tommy Taylor on the harmonica beside me telling me the whole time, "You hang in there girl." He needed to hear those words more than I did...:o)
We buried Grandpa back up in Northern Virginia at a military cemetery, Quantico. Dad had talked to Grandpa before he passed on, being a veteran of the "Koran Conflict" as the official obituary stated (wrong on so many levels!), it was a cost free option for burial. And the service at Quantico was beautiful, brief, and to the point. Most importantly, while down in Grundy we were among a large number of strangers, back home we were among family and friends. Many of Dad's closet friends came to support him, and I am so proud of the man my Dad is. He bravely and graciously led our family through a difficult week, and remained humble and open through the loss of his own father. I spent a lot of time with him and the rest of the family, and I am forever amazed by how hard times only strengthen us, only draw us closer.
So now I'm back in Colorado, finally feeling the weight and adrenaline of the last week wear off and a deep weariness settle in... and a longing to be back among the mountains of Virginia tug at my heart. It's hard regardless to leave family, but even more so when I know what a help I could be....but for 10 beautiful weeks I am in the Springs, ready to play, love, and learn, knowing that God's timing is perfect and we all need "Just a Closer Walk With Thee."
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