My family said their farewells to my grandma yesterday. I was honored when asked to add to her obituary and write her tribute.
It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do because doing so, made her death real. A fact my heart was not yet ready to accept. But in the silence of my room, the words came...
I found him whom my soul loves. Song of Solomon 3:4
A love of imperfection and beauty, two souls brought together over 60 years ago—formed into one—and when one half ascended to heaven, the other wandered the Earth incomplete.
The love and devotion my grandma held for my grandpa was amazing. She taught me quite a bit about marriage and what family truly meant to her. While my son, Logan, was ill in the hospital, she would sit with me in his room and fuss about the nurses when they would poke and prod her great-grandson. “Can’t you see he’s sleeping?” She would say. With gentle smiles, the nurses would proceed with their duties.
Exhausted one afternoon, I cried on my grandma’s shoulder. “What if I can’t do this? What if Logan gets worse? What if my marriage falls apart? I don’t know what to do.”
“You do know what to do.” She said. “You’re here with Logan. You are fighting for him and for Phil. That is what we do. We fight for family no matter what.”
Those words never left me.
To her, family was the air she breathed, the sunlight on her face, and the nourishment to her body. She loved beyond the boundaries, which were set. She embraced life and the people within it. Her faith unyielding even when loss shadowed her, grandma’s spirit remained lifted.
That’s not to say we didn’t have our fair share of humorous conversations. Her attempts to scold our antics were faint at best. With each wide-eyed gasp, “Andrea” was a laugh and a smile.
Though, my family lives 1500 miles away—which she never neglected to reprimand me on and that we only visited every two years—we managed to make her chuckle, cringle, and scratch her head at each quirky gift we would send to her. I am confident she has a collection of fuzzy mustaches and stuffed animal monkey’s concealed somewhere.
As somber as my heart wants to beat, it cannot.
She filled our lives with happiness and love and we, as her family, must pass it on to the next generation. Show them what family truly is. What it is to love and be selfless. What it means to put others before us. To hold tight to our faith and to know in the end, our family will guide us Home.
I was blessed to able to speak with her before she let go of this world. Through her tears and pain, her only worry was of Logan and if he would remember her. I promised her that he would never, ever forget about his great-grandma and all that she had done for him.
And he won’t because she is love.
Dorothy Mae Buresh is love.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
1 Corinthians 13:7
For those who know her: Dot in her blue dress is happy and dancing with the angels.
Yesterday while I was in my office, I heard Logan talking. I crept through the kitchen.
Logan was saying a prayer for his great-grandma. Bells from our neighborhood church chimed 12, the time her funeral was set to begin. I quickly snapped this photo before Logan knew I was there. It was such a beautiful moment. And for the first time in days, my heart lifted.
I felt peace.
Even in the shadows, there is light.
Behind the dark clouds, there is sun.
With every prayer, there is hope.
With each tear shed, we will heal.
Together. As a family.
It is what my grandma would have wanted.