And suddenly, there were two. Two grandparents left, out of the eight we started with, between J and I. His mother’s mother passed away early last week, and we got back from attending the funeral (twelve hours’ drive, one way) yesterday.
The passing of matriarchs in our clans brings into stark relief the futility of the world’s measures of value for women: superficial beauty, career. None of that mattered, in the end of these women’s lives – their beauty had faded, and their “careers” were the kind of work that feminists distain. But the humble work that they did do was secondary to their calling as wives, mothers, and grandmothers.
And it was on the account of losing mother, grandmother, that there were three dozen people from places as far flung as Washington (state), Washington (D.C.) and Montreal, gathered on short notice to pay honor to a woman whose life and death exemplified her faith and brought glory to God. She ran her race well.