My 99-year-old Grandma’s Funeral

Just yesterday I saw my dear grandma’s body placed in the ground. Her ashes were poured into a hole in the green sod of a quiet churchyard. A fountain trickled nearby under the shade of large trees. Flowers blossomed in gardens bordering the lawn. The wall directly behind her burial site was full of small tiles, all engraved with the names of others who had also been buried there. I looked and saw that her tile would soon be attached to that wall directly below that of my grandfather’s (who died before I could remember him). It felt unreal.

It was only the other day I visited her on what eventually became her deathbed. Little baby Grace, her youngest great-grandchild, was drooling and smiling on my lap. My grandma tickled and poked her in fun, trying to make her laugh. Then, my grandma’s tired eyes could stay open no longer and she closed them again to rest. Later, I was told that was the last time she ever opened her eyes to consciously look at and talk to somebody.

I remembered all the nursery rhymes she used to sing to me, the times she pushed me on the swing, the walks around the block with her golden retriever. To see that white-gray dust slipping out to mingle with the dirt and to think that that was all that was left of her sweet smile and warm voice that had been so real just the other day . . . I almost couldn’t believe it. But it was real. It made me think about some things more deeply than ever before.

What will we leave behind when we die?

We spend our whole lives building our lives; we invest a lot of time and effort in our homes, our education, our careers, our relationships. Not all of that is bad. But when our time comes to pass, what will be left for others? Will it be something worthwhile? It  all depends upon the way we lived:

Our houses might be sold–but the memories made within their walls can continue to comfort and instruct our families.

Our belongings might be divided among family members and the remaining items given to charity–but the legacy of a joyful and thankful life, content with what we have and able to make the most of it, can continue to remind our loved ones of the importance of having the right attitude toward material possessions.

All our life-long pursuits will meet their end–but the impact we’ve made on others’ lives can ripple outward from ourselves in never-ending circles of influence.

I don’t know for sure if my grandma is in heaven. I wish I knew, but she never said anything to me that made me think she believed in Jesus as her Savior; I can only hope. For those of us who have done so, we have something splendid to look forward to: heaven with all its rewards . . . and seeing Jesus face to face.

Even though it is worthwhile to leave behind a good influence and good memories, it is even more worthwhile to leave behind seeds of truth that will sprout into eternal life for those who believe. One day we may meet them in heaven, and perhaps they will say to us: “I am here because you told me about Jesus.” Won’t that be special? And then to hear God boast of us and say “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy prepared for you”?

As I watched the freshly-dug soil being gently shoveled on top of my grandma’s remains, I was eloquently, vividly reminded that life on this earth does not last forever; we must have an eternal, not an earthly, perspective for our lives. We must ask God to help us have a vision for what matters most.

“[God] hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began . . .

. . . for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.”

2 Timothy 1:9, 12