The love of a grandmother...

I went to my friend, Jamie, grandmother's funeral today. It brought to mind in me of a lot of things as I sat there in this beautiful Catholic church in Madera.

I didn't know my grandmother and she didn't know me. I had visited her a couple of times, the last when I was a senior in high school. She lived in South Philadelphia with her sons and daughter, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren around her, I lived in Fresno without grandparents, aunts and uncles around me. I didn't learn my heritage from her or any relatives, we created our own.

I watched Jamie's grandfather sit and listen to his daughter and the priest talk of his wife, Hazel. He was surrounded by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, neighbors, parishioners, and friends. Her life was written in each of them, stories past on, wisdom embedded, community created. She was there in our midst through this wonderful life given to each of us - either directly or indirectly (as was in my case). Her body lay in state, but her life was passed on to each of us as she lived each day. I only met her once, at Jamie's wedding, but I knew of her through the words and the heart of her granddaughter. She loved her Savior, husband, family, friends... and because of that, I felt her love today...