Saying goodbye is hard enough...

We said goodbye to Grandpa Henry this week.  He passed away on Thursday with all of his grandchildren around him.  Well….the ones that cared enough to be in his life.  Some of the spouses were there as well.  I was there.  I didn’t want Quintin to go through that alone.  His Grandpa was like his dad in most ways.  Grandpa gave him direction and advice.  Good advice.  Not that “have another drink, she’ll get prettier,” stuff that his birth dad would give him. 

 As we went through the funeral planning stage, the visitation stage and right down to the service stage, I counted my blessings.  Over and over.  For having parents that didn’t give up on me.  For having  so many loving people in my life, as I was growing up, that didn’t walk away.  That didn’t tell me I don’t have a home to come back to.  That didn’t raise their hand to beat me.  That didn’t push me down a flight of stairs.  Didn’t whip me until I had scars and was bleeding.  I thank God that my parents entrusted me with friends…..good friends…..that didn’t want to do ugly things to me.  No, my parents never once turned their backs on me. 

That’s not to say they didn’t get angry with me and some of the stupid things I did.  There was one time in my life that my parents didn’t talk to me for a few months.  That just about killed me.  But it didn’t.  And we came back to each other stronger than ever.  Sometimes you just have to let bygones be bygones.  Forgive…even if you don’t forget. 

Grandpa and Grandma have two daughters that have chosen to walk out of their lives.  They did that eleven years ago and never once looked back.  They were invited to Thanksgiving dinners, Christmases, family gatherings…but chose to stay away.  Chose to snub their noses at the people that gave them life.  Gave them a meaning in this world.  And would have given them anything they could have given.  These girls took pride in letting people know they didn’t speak to their parents and even let their spouses treat Grandpa and Grandma like crap.  Even in public.

The only exception to their parents giving them anything they could, was that the daughters wanted their parents to hand over their hearts and let them control who they could love and who they couldn’t.  Grandpa and Grandma couldn’t do that.  They were asked to walk away from their Grandson.  Could you walk away from your own Grandchild simply because of some bad choices they made?  And by walk away, I mean NEVER have anything to do with them again.  Disown.  Could you do that with an honest heart? 

I don’t have children but I know this much.  If I had a child and they turned out to be a sex offender…I would hate that choice they made but I couldn’t HATE my child.  If my child turned out to be a murderer…I would hate that I would have to visit him/her in a prison, probably for the rest of my days…but I would NEVER abandon my child because of it.  If my child came to me and told me that he/she was gay/lesbian…I wouldn’t like it one bit…but I would love my child until my last breath.  And I would pray to God...even more than I do now...for their salvation.

You see, I don’t have to support 100% of every decision a person makes in order to love them whole-heartedly.  And neither does anyone else.  So why does one, two or even twelve decisions that a child makes in the course of his young life, decide how a parent feels in their heart.  Obviously there wasn't much love to begin with.  What she should have done was walked away a long time before she did.

Quintin’s mother and sister came to Grandpa’s funeral.  So did his aunt but she isn’t worth my time because she doesn’t directly affect me.  Quintin’s mother, on the other hand, affects me greatly.  And I have so many mixed feelings about that, I don’t know how to react sometimes.  Quintin’s mother abandoned him when he was young.  She told him he didn’t have a home to come back to.  After she had him put away in a facility.  Because she didn’t know how to handle her own child. 

For starters, if she couldn’t do her job, then it’s good she got him somewhere that he could get help.  It’s good he got away from her because obviously she sucked at being a mother to him.  She chose to attempt the good mothering thing with her daughter though.  She chose to give her daughter love and attention and time.  She walked away from her son.  And the love he so desperately needed to give. 

Lady, if you ever read this, I want you to take one thing away from here. And that is that you have a lot of explaining to do to God.  You poison people’s minds instead of talking out the facts.  You make people choose who they “should” love and it has backfired on you.  You have to be dead inside.  You surely can’t have a soul.  But may God have Mercy on your soul if you really even have one.  I know Quintin hurts so much when he has to talk about her to anyone.  He literally cringes when someone asks him how his mom is.  I'm just waiting for the answer "she's dead," to come out.

It wasn’t long ago that Quintin and his sister actually had a somewhat sort-of relationship.  They spoke and he mowed her yard for her.  If she needed something fixed, he would fix it.  Until mommy found out.  Sister soon moved and from that point on, she won’t even look at her brother.  It’s so sad that someone can force another person to think like them instead of for themselves.  *sigh*  Oh well. 

When the two sisters came to the doors of the church, they were told they were not wanted at the service.  Not by us even though we wanted to say it.  The funeral director was very nice about it.  Mommy dearest looked him straight in the eye and said, “Pastor said nobody is turned away from God’s house.”  And nobody should be.  It was followed up with, “That’s fine but just so you know you aren’t welcome by the family.”  And she said they were going in anyway…and they did.  I don't have one problem with them actually coming to the funeral.  What bothers me is that when they were contacted and asked to go to the hospital to say goodbye, the response was "we weren't invited."  Really?  Well, you weren't invited here either but you chose to come and make a jackass out of yourself anyway. 

 

Explain the logic to me, please!!!

And here’s my problem with the church right now.  Although nobody should EVER be turned away from God’s house, they shouldn’t have been able to join in the service if that was the wishes of the family.  If they were there “to repent,” as the Pastor put it, they could repent in one of the classrooms, out of the way.   Am I wrong???

Let me ask you this.  If it was YOUR Grandpa and he stated that he didn’t want  his neighbor Barney Garney at his funeral because Barney wasn’t nice to him ever and actually went out of his way to make his life miserable, would you want Barney at the service?  How would you feel if the Pastor told you that he wouldn’t abide by that “last wish” of your Grandpa?  You can’t just up and move a funeral, now can you?  And then, how would you feel when ole Barney showed up with a fat smirk on his face, eating up all the sympathy from mutual friends and/or family and then having the audacity to stay and eat at the luncheon afterward just simply to make a mockery of himself?  I have never in my life witnessed people whispering and gauking like I did at that luncheon.  My goal was to keep my husband and my little sis Lisa from exploding. Thankfully neither did.

Now you see what kind of circus-freak daughters they are.  I have always been assured that they never used to be like this.  By judging what Quintin goes through on a daily basis, I would venture to guess his mother has never been quite right.  Ever.  It explains a lot of the problems he deals with.  I couldn’t love my husband anymore than I do right now.  I will forever be the love and support that he needs to face the days ahead and I will love him UNCONDITIONALLY.  Just like his Grandparents did. 

Back to Grandpa now.  He lived a beautiful life.  He was a God fearing man who prayed many many times a day.  Grandma wrote a beautiful poem that was printed on the back of the folder.  Quintin and Lisa both wrote a letter to Grandpa that was read aloud as was a poem that I had written. 

From the very first time I met Grandpa, he loved me like I was his own.  And I guess I was his.  And I love that.  <3