Category Archives: Remembering

Smiling through a Funeral

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Tears and crying are part and parcel of most wakes and funerals. That’s logical. But I’m learning that the funerals of people who have lived their lives well include hearty laughter and many smiles, too.

Today John Welch had such a funeral. Although his grandchildren, most in their twenties, had difficulty talking about their grandpa without crying, they also found themselves joking through their tears. Grandpa’s death caused sadness only because he was such a powerful presence in their lives, which was a good reason to smile.

The pastor turned to these “kids”, nearly twenty of them, and said, “I hope you realize how fortunate you all are, to have had a grandfather like yours, a man who prayed for you every day and told you he loved you every time he talked with you.” When the magnitude of blessing is that great, a funeral brings joy to its mourners along with their tears.

Those of us who attend such a funeral as secondary mourners, i. e. not part of the deceased’s family, find ourselves taking our cue from the primary mourners. We gain courage from their smiles and enjoy conversation with them and other dear friends we’ve not seen in years. Funerals are important events, and caring people gain courage from grieving together.

Something else positive happens at the funeral of a person who finished strong. We in the audience leave the event with a fresh resolve to live better ourselves, because the one being celebrated did so well. John Welch’s relatives described this man as one who prayed volumes, found good in everyone and steadily grew in his faith. After hearing this, I want to do the same.

Several speakers mentioned John’s attitude of humble servanthood and his gift of helps saying, “No job was beneath him.” As I listened, I asked myself if that was true of me. Was I willing to step into any set of circumstances where there was need? All I could see was massive room for improvement.

Joy and sorrow are closely linked. The old expression, “I might as well laugh or I’ll cry,” has a world of truth in it. Although John Welch had reasons to cry during his life such as having to bury both of his beloved wives, he practiced his hearty laugh on a daily basis and encouraged others to focus on the good in their lives.

He consistently testified that the only reliable source of true joy was his relationship with Christ. And because of this, he could laugh with gusto at his own troubles, and we could smile throughout his funeral.

“Even in laughter the heart may ache.” (Proverbs 14:13a)

When Healing Comes

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After the death of a husband, how long does it take to heal? When is grieving finished?

I’ve looked back over recent weeks of blog posts and was surprised to realize not every one of them has been about Nate. At first I was appalled to see this, but after thinking it through, I think it’s as a sign of God’s kind mending of a broken heart. That’s not to say I don’t think about Nate daily, sometimes hourly. But the wrenching sadness happens less and less.

C. S. Lewis published a small book of journal entries penned during deep sorrow over losing his wife to cancer. A Grief Observed was so personal, he wouldn’t allow his name on the cover but instead ghost-published as N. W. Clerk. After Lewis died several years later, his stepson republished it with his true identity.

Lewis went through raw grief, doubting God’s love and availability to him, wondering whether there was an afterlife at all. But by the end of the book, his relationship with the Lord had been restored, and his grief was beginning to heal. In my own progress toward healing, I can relate well to this quote from A Grief Observed:

“There was no sudden, striking emotion. Like the warming of a room or the coming of daylight when you first notice them, they have already been going on for a long time.”

Today I was strongly encouraged by realizing my healing has already been going on for a long time. It’s not that I’m “finished”. I’ll still experience sad moments and occasional breakdowns, but just as Lewis learned, raw emotion  mellows, and we connect with our spouses in a new way. Instead of labeling Nate as “missing”, as having left a big, empty hole in our family, I think of him as our larger-than-life husband and father, the lively, loyal head of our family who was full of personality and loved each of us wholeheartedly.

As one of our kids said somewhere during this last year, “Papa was a legend.” He wasn’t the kind of legend that made the cover of TIME, but a Nyman-legend to be sure. Grief has a way of wrapping what’s good with a negative shroud, but as time passes and we heal, the layers peel away, and the positives come shining through.

God has helped me see more and more of these positives as the months have passed, and I credit him with every bit of my healing. He’s been my constant companion, my shield from despair and, as the biblical David put it, “the lifter of my head.”

Had we known Nate would die at 64, leaving us after only 42 days of warning, we’d have still chosen him for our husband and father. Grieving may not be finished, but he will always be our main man, the one we wanted then, the one we still love now, and the one for whom we thank God.

“You, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head. I was crying to the Lord with my voice, and he answered me.” (Psalm 3:3-4)

Beef with Broccoli

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Nate knew of my disinterest in cooking. After we’d been married a few years, he said, “If I ever make a lot of money, I’ll hire a cook for you. What kind would you like?”

Without pausing, I said, “A Chinese cook.”

That’s still true. Beef with broccoli outdoes filet mignon in my book any day. Over the years I tried my hand at following Chinese recipes with mid-level success, but generally it’s more fun (and more delicious) to order take-out. We had our favorite restaurant back in the Chicago suburbs and have found a wonderful one here in Michigan, the China Cafe.

Nate’s last restaurant meal was there, three days before we learned of his cancer. Mary, Bervin and the two of us had gone out just for the fun of it, and Nate had eaten every bit of his shrimp with lobster sauce, astounding us all. His appetite had waned by then, and normally he wouldn’t have touched 75% of his dinner. This robust eating was a testimony to his love of Chinese food, and the three of us look back fondly on that night.

Tonight Mary and I decided to split an order of beef with broccoli from the China Cafe while we watched an episode of our beloved “Father Knows Best.” It was my turn to pick up the food, and when I did, our favorite little waitress was solicitous of my welfare. “How you doing now,” she said, leaning toward me. We talked for ten minutes, and she wanted to know about each of our kids, where they were located and how each was faring. She repeatedly said, “I’m sorry,” and when I referred to Nate as “Mr. Shrimp with Lobster Sauce,” she remembered.

Her life isn’t easy, working non-stop at a restaurant. Her husband is the cook, and by the time the two of them close up, clean up and drive the 30 minutes home, it must be nearly 1:00 AM. She probably isn’t asleep until shortly before her two year old son is waking up. But she became animated with joy in answering my questions about him, describing how busy and energetic he is. Surely she struggles with having to be away from him most of the hours of every day.

She’s also a stepmother to her husband’s first son, a high school senior she’s trying to help with college applications. I admire what she and her husband have accomplished in a country that isn’t their own. They work hard and keep their restaurant open for business even when diners are few, like tonight (one table-full). She is the biblical definition of perseverance coupled with good cheer.

Helen could easily justify a sour attitude, taking orders from people all day and being on her feet until they hurt. Although I’m old enough to be her mother (and practically her grandmother), I’m learning from her fine example. I like her a great deal and would love to know her better.

Maybe if I eat enough beef with broccoli, I will.

“All the days of the oppressed are wretched, but the cheerful heart has a continual feast.” (Proverbs 15:15)