Agape Love

The day my Grandma was buried was one of the more beautiful days this winter. Since it took place down in Arkansas, the temperature was warmer than it probably would have been up here in KC, but there was something about that day that just made it seem all that more special. So many of us had worn long sleeves, pants, even a head scarf (Aunt Kay), but none of that was needed. I think the sun warmed us up to about 75 degrees and the wind came in strong from the south.

The church service was nice...nice is too vague of a word, but it was quaint and small. It was held inside a church I used to go to when I was a little girl when we'd go visit family down there in Palestine, Arkansas. The town itself is nothing really, but I will always remember that church. I remember singing a song about "agape love," stirring my imaginary pot of all the ingredients used to make agape love, or God's love found within us. I know my grandma was full of it, and she made sure she her cup runneth over as she rose to meet Him.

Family came whom I had not seen in years. In fact, most of the people there I had not seen since my 7th grade year. That was the last year I ever attended a family reunion. Few friends and family came to see my grandma for one last time, and boy, did she look great! Seeing her in the casket reminded me of the grandma I once knew so many years ago. Her skin was taut, showing not-so-many wrinkles, and her face actually had on makeup! I don't know that I ever remember my grandma wearing makeup unless we were going to church, so I guess that's a befitting way to look when she was walking through the Pearly Gates.

Probably the nicest part of the day was actually at the graveside service at Forrest Park Cemetary, located in Forrest City (pronounced FAR City for anyone from Arkansas). Of course, this is one of the only pictures I have of her children all together--sitting by the casket, heads knelt in prayer. As the preacher was saying a prayer, a gust of wind came in and blew through the tent! I just know that was grandma's way of saying, "Stop crying now. I'm in a much better place here than I was on earth. You'll see me again someday. I'll be here."

Once the graveside service was over, we all stood around talking, catching up with each other and what everyone had been up to since the last time we'd spoken. I asked Mom why Grandma was being buried way out in Forrest City when she had lived somewhere else for so long. She said it was because this area was really where she came from, her husband had been buried there, and she wanted to be buried close to my mom as well. HUH???? Apparently, it turns out that my own mother already has her tombstone picked out, planted, and even has her name already engraved on the darn thing! Now that was a little freaky to see for the first time. My brother wasn't so sure he even wanted to see it, but curiousity got the better of him, and he looked too. Mom said she didn't want us kids to worry about that trivial thing when her time came, so she had it made beforehand. Thanks...I guess...