Life’s Good Between

Is it weird that Reese’s Mini Peanut Butter Cups now remind me of my family? I just found a smooshed one in my purse – one of the ones I’d taken out of the “Cousin-Mobile Snack Bag” over the weekend that had gotten too hot in the Alabama sunshine while we were out of the car.

Haha, that made me a little happy.

The Greatest Love I Have Ever Seen

Karla and I stood six or so feet behind Grama as she stood over the open casket, hand on Papa’s face, looking him lovingly in his eyes, and saying “goodnight to my sweetie,” as she said.

Karla turned to me and said, “That is the greatest love I have ever seen.” It’s amazing – through all of the tears, all of the sadness, all of the hurt, the ray of hope and light is that common thread is that sentiment, said over and over in different words by everyone here. I am completely inspired that that kind of love is possible and real. Miranda said it will serve as her example, her aspiration for the love and the life she wants to create with Jeff.

I keep thinking of all the instances over the years that I’ve noticed Grama and Papa and their playful, almost child-like love for each other. He used to spend hours a day walking around the house, piddling in the garden, sitting on the swing, cleaning the pool, sweeping something, while the “grandbabies” (as Grama still calls us, despite the fact that the youngest is now 15) sat snacking around the kitchen table, or watching movies downstairs. Papa would come inside and Grama would ask if he’d like her to make him a sandwich. She’d tell him to sit down and rest awhile, and she’d make him a sandwich. So he’d sit in his chair with us at the kitchen table – his chair is the only one of the 6 that have armrests (not really sure why or how that happened) – and she’d make him a sandwich, pour him a glass of iced tea (yes, sweet tea), and he’d sit with us and have a sandwich. She always took care of him. He called her pet names like “Honeypot,” “Mama,” and “Joycie,” and looked at her with the most starry-eyed love that it was obvious so many years ago that these two were a perfect match. In the last four or so years, as the Alzheimer’s crept in, she continued to care for him, his needs growing more and more each year. Her sole purpose became to watch after him, keep him comfortable, keep him happy.

We keep hearing stories of how they met, in the choir, at Harmony Baptist Church in Cullman, Alabama. He was 17, she was 12. In one of the hymnals, on the page with “Oh, How I Love Jesus,” he crossed out “Jesus,” and wrote “Joycie.” He’s loved her like that ever since.

Saturday Morning – The Next Era Sets In

The first thing I did this morning when I stood up was hug my Grama and ask her how she was doing. “Not good,” she said. “You know, someone at the funeral home yesterday told me, ‘Now you have to be strong for your family.’” I laughed and looked at Grama and said, “No you don’t.” She said, “No, I know my children need to be strong for me. I think today’s going to be the day I fall apart.” “Well then,” I said, “We’ll all be here to put each other back together.”

The connection my family has shared with each other, throughout our whole lives for sure, but particularly this weekend, has been amazing and indescribable. The chaplain at the burial service yesterday commented on what a blessing it was to see such a close and affectionate family. A true statement, considering that I alone would barely let go of Miranda, whether I was holding her hand or putting my arm around her. I’d told someone earlier that I do my best to snap into Big Sister Mode, but that’s just as much for my comfort as it is for hers.

My emotions have been mixed and bittersweet. Sadly, I’m hurt and disbelieving that the end to this era has really come and a new one is starting. I can’t believe the man that invented such words as “oochel” (to scoot) and “pah-SHAW” (an expression, somewhat acknowledging someone else’s words without giving them a lot of credit) is really gone. Teacher, principal, coach, businessman, father, grandfather, rock. This man was the summit of this family, the example. Grama is the glue that holds us all together, but he is what she’s held us to.

On the other hand, the blessing it has been to be a witness to the love they shared and the family that has created has been overwhelmingly wonderful. That’s what really gets me. Yes, I’m sad for myself that I lost my grandfather. But, more powerfully, I’m touched watching my grandmother say goodbye to her best friend, the love of her life for the last 61 years. Hearing her say things like, “My life will never be the same,” and “What am I going to do without him?,” just rips my heart out.

The last couple of days have been tough, but they’ve been busy. We’ve been able to distract ourselves with ceremony, travel, food, errands. We’ve said our goodbyes, hugged and thanked extended family, and come back home completely drained and exhausted. Today, we rest. Today we stop moving, sit still and let things sink in. At least, I know that’s what Grama will be doing, and we will be here to help her out. That’s what family does.

HSV Trip – The Logistics, Part 3

And then there was Saturday…

The cousins concocted sangria that went by fast enough to ensure some REALLY great stories by the end of the night.  Sat night was my favorite, but I’m too tired to get into it now.  More later… I promise!  Stay tuned for the copy/pasting of the things I wrote over the weekend…

HSV Trip – The Logistics, Part 2

Day Two:

Friday morning was the service and the burial – also very, very tough and very emotional. In a sense of divinity and serendipity, the chaplain from the hospital the last few days of Papa’s life was a gentleman named Dan. Dan had been one of my grandmother’s 7th grade English students in 1979. At Grama’s request, he did the service. I know pastors know how to handle these kinds of things, but his words felt personal, sincere, genuine, and were really very touching.

More on that later.

Anyway, visitation Friday, after which the Cousin-Mobile (Chris, Michelle, me, Miranda, Rachel, Scott, and Jake drove around Cullman trying to find “the old Hendrix farm” (aka the farm where Grama grew up), but we never did. Then again, it was raining cats and dogs and we weren’t quite sure how to navigate the country roads (though the Garmin did help find our way out of there!). We did manage to find the bridge over Crooked Creek which marks the spot that both Grama and Papa were baptised, care of Harmony Baptist Church (which is the church where they met in the choir).

Back to Grandmother’s House we go. First, I have to define “kids” and ‘dolts” here. The ‘dolts are the old folks. We’ve been calling the adults “’dolts’” for years and years, so that’s stuck. Anyway, that’s my parents, my aunts/uncles, and grandparents. The “kids” are what Grama and Papa have always called “the grandbabies.” This is a small group and includes, from oldest to youngest – Cousin-in-law Chris, his wife and my cousin Michelle (older than me by 2 months and 2 days), myself, Miranda (my sister who is barely a year younger than me), Robert (21), Rachel (17), Rachel’s boyfriend Scott, and then there’s Jake (15 next month) who’s kind of in limbo now. He’s pretty much just now old enough to hang with the “kids” without actually being considered a little kid.

Anyway, the kids planted themselves in the kitchen, where an experimental bruschetta-making endeavor got underway. Grama picked some fresh basil out of her garden that same day, and we’d gotten some really flavor-packed fresh tomatoes from the neighbor’s garden a day or two before. What else do you do with tomato and basil? Bruschetta. So, using a loaf of rosemary bread we’d received as part of a food basket from the funeral home, olive oil, and the last bit of the shredded mozz in the fridge, Chris and I put our heads and palates together to come up with bruschetta so good that two rounds were required. This paired well with the multiple magnums we had of various wines.

After the culinary adventures had subsided, we planted ourselves outside on the back porch with the ‘dolts to listen to stories, hoping to hear our parents incriminate themselves and each other. Never fails. Get enough vino into this group and those stories come out. And they did, and I absorbed as much as I could. Whether they were reminiscing about stories with Papa or telling us things they shouldn’t have told us, I hung onto every single word.

That was Friday… we all sat out on the porch as late as we could stand it, then went either home or to whatever couch we’d claimed. Mine was the one in Grama’s room upstairs.

HSV Trip – The Logistics, Part 1

Day One:

Here’s how we got to ‘Bama. Dad, Miranda, and I left early AM on Thursday morning. We flew from Minneapolis to Memphis on the 6:50am flight, landed in Memphis with enough time to connect to Birmingham, and took that flight. Fortunately, there were seats still open in first class, so we got to ride up front on both flights.

(*Dad has worked for NWA for the entirety of my life – unless some of that was with Republic, but I don’t know when they merged – so we have the downfall of flying standby whenever we fly, but the perk of getting upgrades when they’re available*)

Anyway, flights directly from Memphis to Huntsville were booked, so we opted for the Birmingham flight, rented a Camry and drove the two hours north from B’ham to Huntsville.

Northern Alabama

We got in about 1:30pm, prepared to leave Grama’s house by 3:30pm to head south to Cullman, where the visitation services would be held. Around 2:30, we were tasked with feat of putting Papa’s life story on two posterboards, a task we not only accomplished but completely dominated. Somehow, in a matter of an hour, Miranda (sister), Rachel (cousin), Scott (Rachel’s boyfriend), Michelle (cousin) and Chris (Michelle’s husband) managed to find pictures representing almost every era and every family member and fill two poster boards with the life story of Oakland Hoytt Wood. I bet we could’ve filled a dozen more. We caught fishing trips, office shots, college pictures, family photos, Gulf Shores vacations, and Christmases. And it looked pretty damn good.

These posters stood on easels at the visitation, at the Cullman Heritage Funeral Home, there in Cullman, Alabama.

Grama and Papa both grew up there. Come to think of it, I’m not sure what brought them to Huntsville. I know they lived in Georgia before they moved back to Alabama. I should ask that story next time I’m down there.

Anyway, we finished the boards and brought them – along with some other really great framed pictures – with us to the chapel. This was a really tough part, watching everyone react to finally seeing him at peace.

He had wrestled for the last four years or so with Alzheimer’s, with not knowing himself or his family. Somehow, he always knew Grama. Not necessarily that she was his wife, or his Joycie, but that she was taking care of him. That’s probably because that’s what she’s always done. Be it making sandwiches for him in the middle of his busy days tending to gardens and pools, or staying home with him every day these last few years to make sure he’s safe and comfortable, she has always taken care of him. And he seemed to at least know that she needed to be there.

Anyway, getting to things I’m going to cover later.

Visitation, Thursday, tough. Emotional. My dad’s parents came up from Mobile, which was really nice and thoughtful of them. They made it up for Uncle Reggie’s two years ago also. That’s a 6 hour drive for one night, but they did it, and that means so much to everyone else there.

Post-visitation, the cousins plus [Aunt] Karla (who might as well be one of the kids most of the time) made a table-for-nine-please stop at the Cullman Taco Bell, had dinner (las primas mayores comieron las empanadas – mmmm buenas!), and then moseyed our way back north to Huntsville (it’s about an hour and a half or so).

A few glasses of wine were shared, and I found myself helping [ex?-Aunt] Patsy onto a couch as she just about fell over. I thought it odd that she went from kind of tipsy to can’t-stand-up until I realized it was a combination of wine and meds that knocked her out quickly. Either way, it was kind of funny for Grama plus two “grandbabies” to put a 50-something year old woman to bed because we thought she was drunk.

A side note on Patsy – she’s the one that taught me how to Boot Scoot Boogie when I was something like 12 or so. There are pictures of her with Miranda and I, on the deck that used to exist at the house, learning all the steps. Even now, when I hear that song, I think of that.

Anyway, that was Thursday.

Family Tree

You might need this to get through the next half a dozen posts…

Family Tree – Wood Family, Alabama

Papa – Oakland Hoytt Wood
September 27, 1924-July 22, 2008; teacher, coach, principal, businessman, husband, father, grandfather, gardener. Maker-upper of words such as “oochel” (to scoot), World’s Greatest Heckler
Grama – Joyce Hendrix Wood (Huntsville, AL)
August 5, 1929; teacher, wife, mother, grandmother. Culinary artist when it comes to cornbread, fried okra, and grits.

Larry Wood (Atlanta, GA)– their oldest. Retired special ed teacher, now a flight attendant for Delta; world traveler, urban Altanta-an with a country boy heart
Adrian (Atlanta, GA)– Larry’s Puerto Rican partner of 8 years. Incredible. Former Delta reservations guy, now also a flight attendant.
Denise Wood Walker (Cottage Grove, MN) – my mama. Daycare provider, wife, mother, amazing hero of mine. Loves gin and tonics and M&Ms
Vicky Wood Spencer (Huntsville, AL) – the third oldest, my aunt and Michelle/Rachel/Robert’s mom; wife, mother, beautifully talented artist
Reggie Wood – June 1, 1964 – April 2006 – the baby of the family, died two years ago of a massive heart attack; some sort of technical producer for Fox’s Atlanta affiliate; father of younger cousin Jake

Cousins/Grandbabies:
Michelle Spencer Brightwell (Monte Sano, Huntsville, AL) – the oldest, 25, barista and lifelong learner/student of culture, literature and history; wife to Chris Brightwell, who technically is my cousin-in-law, but since his presence is approaching the 10-year mark, we group him in the “cousin” genus as well.
Myself (St. Paul, MN… for now) – you know me. Restless 20-something writer, friend
Miranda (Crystal, MN) – my younger sister, 24, first-grade teacher, amazingly beautifully energetic and sincere soul
Robert Spencer (Huntsville, AL) – computer science genius, 23 (girlfriend, Rachel is fantastic and grounds him so well)
Rachel Spencer (Huntsville, AL) – Robert and Michelle’s 17 year-old sister, high school senior, quintessential youngest child prima donna diva
Jake Wood (Cartersville, GA) – Reggie’s son, 15 next month, quiet and introverted, but funny and smart as hell.
Abigail Wood (somewhere in GA) – Jake’s half-sister, also a daughter of Reggie’s. 3ish? I’ve never met her, but she’s a gorgeous little blonde toddler.

Disclaimer: Wordiness Ahead

These next few posts are really more about vanity and documentation of this past family weekend. You, of course, are welcome to read each and every word written, but I wrote these because I felt compelled to document these memories and events as best I could, and this is how and where I know how to write things.

I’m sharing them publicly because there are a few others that read this that I think would appreciate reliving the last few days.

That being said, these next few posts are going to be very family- and emotion-heavy.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Lily’s Back

I didn’t make it to Neil Diamond in Chicago this weekend. I found out on Sunday night that my grandfather (mom’s side) had just a few days left before he was gone. He died early Tuesday morning, so I packed up quickly and headed down to Alabama for the funeral, which was Thursday/Friday.

I definitely did some writing as I went through a rollercoaster of everything over those four days, and I’ll post that, piece-meal soon enough.

I also wanted to acknowledge that I did NOT miss Tom Petty on Wednesday night with my dad, and I intend to review that as well.

Hold tight, but Lily’s back!

Innately Curious and Deliriously Passionate

People come into our lives for a reason. And anyone that makes a strong impact on your life, on your perspective, on your outlook is not random.