RIP Mrs. Allen

Earlier this week I returned from a business trip to attend the funeral of a woman I did not know particularly well; certainly not well enough to refer to her by her given name. Our interactions were limited to the few occasions when I would see her and Mr. Allen at a field hockey game. Her granddaughter is one of Bryn's former teammates, closest friends, and a young woman I've grown to love as a daughter. By the time I met her grandmother, Mrs. Allen was not the person that was being eulogized. Time and dementia had robbed the world of what I've since come to learn was an amazing woman.

The funeral mass was the most touching ceremony I've ever been a part of. Although my attendance was intended simply as a small measure of support for the Allen family, I now realize that I benefited from being there far more than any comfort the Allen's could have derived from me. Sitting in church it was impossible to not recognize that Mrs. Allen was the center of her family, that she was deeply loved and respected by all who knew her. Even an outsider like me could feel her spirit uniting the family one last time. There were several instances when it was difficult for me to contain my emotions, but none more so than when the grandchildren gathered, after the presentation of gifts, in a group hug that was as genuine an expression of true grief that I've ever witnessed.

The experience was a stark contrast to my mother's passing, when I didn't shed a single tear. That probably says more about me than my mother, but I don't think it's unfair to say that there was a very different vibe at Mrs. Allen's funeral. Although somber, it was a celebration of her life. A palpable sense of pain and joy engulfed the sanctuary. It was a privilege to observe a family say goodbye to its matriarch in a manner so foreign to my personal familiarity.

I'm so very thankful for the opportunity to watch the Allen's say goodbye because it reminds me of the legacy I'd like to leave for my children. They've not been blessed with the love of adoring grandparents. Deb's mother passed before they were born, forever changing my father-in-law. And somehow the grandparent gene wasn't inherited by my parents. To this day I remain confused as to how my grandparents were so attentive and loving to me and my siblings, yet my parents were so disinterested in spending any time with my children.

I think that I can finally let go of that pain because I now can internalize the image of just how wonderful an extended family can be. I cherish my life with my family and friends. Instead of dwelling on the pain of the past, I can focus on continuing to build a future. Mrs. Allen has left a indelible impression on me. I thank her for showing me what is truly important. One day, hopefully many years from now, my family and friends will celebrate my life, recalling that I was always there for them, and will be able to say goodbye content in the knowledge that my love for them will continue long beyond the days I walk the earth.