I lost one of the most treasured people in my life this past fall. Grandma Bessie, as she was known to just about everyone, was 93 - almost 94 - when she passed away this last September. I had the honor of trying to speak at her funeral service, which was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. She lived with us from the time I was 8 years old. She was my great Grandma, and was she ever "great"... Looking back after a few months, I can see how even in her death, she worked magic in the souls of her family.
Who was Grandma Bessie?
In the early days, she was a care giver: she would leave snacks for after school-homemade pudding in fancy glass bowls or snickers candy bars cut perfectly into portions; then, as we grew older, she would smuggle laundry for certain teenage girls who were supposed todo their own; next, she became daycare provider to our children, and began entertaining a whole other generation with her stories and humor.
She was a teacher; she taught us about history-her history and our own. Most people here have heard her stories of what school lunches were like during the depression, how sleigh rides took them to school in the really bad snow, how to get home from school after the teacher locks you in and leaves you, and how kids really did walk miles to school up hill, in the sun, rain and snow.
We learned about the games they played on the farm, the chores they had, and the family that shared it all. We heard fishing stories, pool hall and gas station stories, as well as war stories, like the time she helped smuggle a puppy to a young German prisoner of war for his birthday. There was the dog wit rabies, the wife with the frying pan, and the big strong husband who had to have his wife gut a deer for him.
She was fun with a great sense of humor. She told jokes, made faces, taught us covered wagon and card games, and played practical jokes - ask the son-in-law who was trapped in the chicken coop... She loved to play canasta, and claimed she never cheated. She was always up for games or adventure.
She was strong - she may have been little and generally quiet - but she was a force to be reckoned with if you crossed her family. Just ask the boyfriend who saw the wrong side of the broom, the grandson who was too stubborn to go to the doctor, or the husband who had one too many drinks.
She was a model of Faith. She faced tragedy, and buried not only her parents and her husband, but her daughter and then her grandchildren, yet she had contant Faith through it all. She rarely had a bad word to say, and when she did you know you deserved it.
She had more stories and life experience than any of us could imagine. She lived through the horse-and-buggy and depression era, working day after day on thefarm. She witnessed the emergence of the car and ran a gas station. She worked in a facotry. She was a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and even a great, and great-great grandmother. She was a source of inspiration for us all. People think that we took care of her, but she was the one who took care of us all these years. When I consider all the role models one could have, I would choose none other than her.
