Growing up Catholic has it ups and downs. It's strange when I have an up. I'm not used to the ups.
I talked to Mom throughout the week when she was in Canon City helping to get everything together for Grandma's funeral. On Wednesday, she told me that they could only find Grandma's glow-in-the-dark rosary. My mother knew I would appreciate that Grandma was being buried with a glow-in-the-dark rosary because I have a rather large glow-in-the-dark collection. In a way, I thought a little piece of me was going to be buried with Grandma. I insisted to my mother that I knew Grandma had a much nicer rosary. Mom suspects that it somehow got lost at the nursing home Grandma lived in.
My mother called again on Thursday to let me know that she did find my Grandma's rosary but she didn't elaborate on it. I was bummed the little "weird" piece of me wasn't going to be buried with her but was happy that something more acceptable and less tacky was.
On Friday morning it was my turn to go in and have "alone time" with Grandma one last time. I walked in and was amazed at how beautiful she looked. The morticians did a wonderful job. They must have taken at least twenty years off of her. She was very peaceful. She was wearing a purple dress, had pearls around her neck, and a purple iris flowered hanky and rosary in her hands. Then I looked at the rosary and lost it. I coveted that rosary when I was young and wished that someday it would be mine. It was made with purple Austrian crystal and metal links. It broke about 15 years ago and she gave it to me over ten years ago to fix. It was missing a few beads that needed to be replaced. It was hard to find Austrian crystal beads that matched. In fact, I didn't find what I was looking for so I settled on as close as I could find. I fixed it and gave it back to her. Nothing was ever said about it. I didn't see it again until yesterday. More than a piece of me went with her; my work went with her. I have never felt that kind of sad joy before.
I hope to feel that sad joy again.
