This year, my heart was a little heavier than the cast-iron skillet I got for my sister. Life doesn't operate according to my time, and this was not a time I would have chosen.
On December 12, I got a call from my aunt. My grandmother's health had taken a bad turn and she wasn't sure how much time she had left. I wasn't sure what this meant. Could it be a couple of days? A few weeks? a month? I waited for further information.
The next day, while I was at work, I was asked by a different aunt to video call her as soon as I could. She wanted all of the grandkids to have a chance to speak to grandma before a combination of a failing body and the medicine to make her comfortable sent her into a permanent haze. I called and had my last conversation with my grandmother on this Earth. She was tired and looked very weak, but she recognized me and talked to me for a precious few minutes.
This is the last picture of the two of us together. It was taken when I visited Nebraska in October for my grandpa's funeral. I remember that day. It was beautiful outside and we had a good conversation.
The next week was a waiting game that was honestly one of the most difficult things I've had to do in a long time. I like planning things out and making sure everyone is happy, and this was simply impossible. I didn't sleep well, my mind was trying so hard to come up with plans A through K for every possible contingency. I was preoccupied and every little thing just felt like another block from a Jenga tower about to collapse. What's worse was that all of this was happening around my Christmas travel plans. I was flying out on the 23rd to spend Christmas with my partner's family in Pennsylvania. Should I rearrange flights and join him there a day or two later? Should I try to make the funeral or wait and take my leave from work later? What would be better for my family? What would serve my grieving process better? It feels weird thinking all of this when she is still alive and her time of passing is between her and God.
I was so grateful for my sister in that week. She gave me important updates without me having to call her all the time. I at least had the peace of knowing that if anything big did happen, mine was the first number she would call, and I didn't have to wonder if I had the right information. She really gave me what I needed, and I thank her for that.
By the time Friday rolled around, I had somewhat decided which of my many plan variations I would use. Flying out in an attempt to make a funeral early the next week, while possible, would just leave me more stressed and overwhelmed. I wanted to have a clear mind to honor the memory of my grandmother, not have a million things to think about with Christmas and travel. I would go and enjoy Christmas with Alex's family, then fly to Nebraska to go through my grandparents' property and visit her grave. It felt like the plan that would give my grandma's memory the respect it deserved. And of course, it still felt so weird saying all of this when she still lives. In that hospice room, no one could say when she would slip away. She would go knowing that her children were close by, her grandchildren loved her, and her husband awaited her arrival. When? God only knows.
Well, God did know. And Jewell Deichmann slipped into a place none of us can possibly imagine on December 18th, 2021. She was received by an entourage including my grandpa Gordon Deichmann, my brother Chet Deichmann, my cousin Joseph Deichmann, and many other friends and family. I got the call from my dad as I sat on the couch watching Christmas movies with Alex. When I hung up, I nodded and knew it was time to book the flights, tell my boss I would be gone longer than anticipated, and pack a second suitcase.
On the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, the world dimmed the lights as my grandmother was laid to rest next to my brother Chet and my grandpa Gordon. I sat next to Alex in my living room and we watched the video of her funeral. I paused it to explain some of the stories and point out faces familiar to me. He listened and was present with me the whole time, and I thank him for that. As those who knew Grandma described her in her younger days, he remarked that she was a bit like me. And I guess I am in some ways. Jewell Deichmann was a pretty great lady, so I take that as a compliment.
I did indeed go to Pennsylvania, and I did have a wonderful time with Alex's family. I bribed them with cookies and corny jokes, so I hope they like me. It really was a lovely Christmas, and one that I will treasure. But I knew that amongst all of the lights and decorations filling my Christmas-brain, there was a very heavy box sitting quietly in the corner. The box of grief that I put aside for now. As a Christian, I know that I will see my grandma again, so I need not cast a pall over the joy of the birth of Christ. But I am still human and it is still sad that Grandma isn't here anymore. It's time to open that box, and this blog post is part of that. In part 2, I'm going to talk about the woman I grew up with and some of the things I remember about her that I would like my readers to share in. Please read on when it's posted, I wouldn't want to leave you all sad. After all, this is about a wonderful woman and the Christmas season.
See you soon!
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