So Rosie died.
I had no idea it would hurt me as bad as it did. My God, how I loved that woman.
I was asked by her daughter to share memories of her at her funeral.
It was by far that hardest thing Ive ever had to do...... yet it was probably the proudest Ive ever been. I haven't cried that much since my dad died. Everytime I stop and think of a specific memory, picture her face and her smile, hear her giggle, try to remember her smell, or imagine myself hugging her, I get the worst flash of saddness in my chest/stomach. I thinbk I will miss her for the rest of my life.
Here is my speech:
I call her Rosie. To me, that is her name.
This nickname was created because my sister and I (at the
age of 4) were not able to pronounce Ileana.
We also created a nickname for her husband ……….. we called
him “Big Daddy” and for anyone who knew Bill, that name was a perfect fit.
Rosie was my childhood babysitter, and aside from my
parents, she was one of the most important people in my life.
And as life carried on and I grew older, she became much
more than a weekend babysitter….. she was a
·
A substitute grandma, sitting in the front pew
at my wedding
·
A shoulder to cry on when my father passed away
·
A friend who I could visit, laugh, and drink “sanka” coffee with every couple months.
·
And my personal cheerleader….. as she was the
last person who gave me a “pep talk” before I gave birth to my first child
So many memories
of my childhood involve Rosie:
·
Making homemade bread with her and Big Daddy
·
Putting together jigsaw puzzles
·
Playing hours of marco polo
·
Looking forward to her coconut lamb cake every
Easter and chocolate truffles every Christmas
·
Her making me warm milk and honey when I
couldn’t sleep at night
·
Listening to old records on her record player.
One of my favorite memories that I
have of Rosie is when she would take my sister and I to church with her.
She always made us wear a nametag
and whenever the pastor would ask, “Do we have any visitors today?”, she would
make us stand upstand up in the pew so everyone could see.
At the time, it was slightly embarrassing……
but looking back on it now, I
realize how proud she was to bring us into her church.
How proud she was to introduce us,
“her girls” to her church friends and how important her faith was.
I remember it like it was
yesterday.
Rosie also taught me many things….
·
How to play Chinese checkers, solitaire, and gin
rummy
·
Special songs like “I love you a bushel and a
peck…” and “Ring around the Rosie”
·
How to say my prayers before every meal and
before bed
·
And the true meaning of the phrase “it’s the
thought that counts” when gift giving.
That’s another trait about Rosie… her giving heart. I can
recall the many gifts she gave my sister and I over the years. Birthday gifts and Christmas gifts. They were
never much, but the meaning behind them is what made them so special……. A box
of pocket-size Kleenex, a single pencil, a stuffed cat, or a piece of her own
jewelry….. which I wore on my wedding day……… all simple, in-expensive gifts
that came from the heart.
Its funny…. I have probably received hundreds of gifts over
the years….. but these gifts from Rosie are ones that I remember and treasure the most.
A friend of mine (and of Rosie’s) recently shared with me
a few verses from the book of Mark that
she felt described the kind of woman Rosie was.
The verses are entitled “The Widow’s Offering” and I’d like
to read them…..
God says this:
41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where
the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the
temple treasury.
Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42
But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper
coins, worth only a few cents.
43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said,
“Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the
others. 44
They all gave out of their wealth; but she,
out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”
Rosie had specific characteristics about her that only
“Rosie could possess”….
·
Her strong and confident faith in and God
·
Her smell
·
Her love for the color pink… light pink….
·
Her jet black hair…… when even at the age of 93
still didn’t have one single shred of gray…..
·
Her distinct handwriting
·
The sound of her laugh
·
How her glasses would rise on her cheeks when
she would smile
·
And her hands…….
As a child, and even as an adult, I would always would rub
my fingers over the prominent blue veins on the top of her hands….. Her skin was so
thin and so soft and her nails perfectly manicured.
A lot of these traits are also traits that her daughter,
Diane, has…..
and I love the fact that I can see bits and pieces of Rosie
in her.
I know Rosie is elated to be in heaven
with God.
I know
she is reuniting with Big Daddy, with my dad, and so many others that have gone
before her.
I know
she wasn’t scared of death and was ready to “go home” when God came for her… because
she told me many times.
I also know how much she will be missed.
By me and my family.
By her family.
And by all of us here, who were blessed to know her.
A quote from one of my favorite books helps explain how I
will continue to go through life without Rosie’s presence….
“Lost Love is still Love. It takes a different form, that’s
all.
SO…. Even though I cant hug her tiny frame, hold her hand,
or hear her laugh anymore……… I still have my memories of Rosie…. As we all do.
Nurture these memories.
Hold them and dance with them until you see her again.
Remember that “Life has to end, but love doesn’t”.
May you rest in peace, Rosie….. I love you a bushel and a
peck.
