dear old opa
Corey’s grandfather, Kes van Hoek, whom we called Opa, passed away last week Wednesday. It was a sudden death, heart attack at age 93, but thankfully he went quickly and quietly, without any trauma…just the way I’m sure he hoped to go. We flew out the next day to Denver for the memorial that was held on Saturday. When we attended the viewing before the burial, I, unexpectedly, was overwhelmed and just wanted to leave. I had been envisioning Opa sitting in heaven and enjoying life with full hearing (he was quite deaf in the end), and asking Jesus all sorts of questions, as he seemed to be such a life-long learner. To see his body there and know his spirit wasn’t, was quite…well I don’t have words.
I sang It is Well with My Soul at the service. I truly meant every word I sang, but the circumstances surrounding the day, and sleep deprivation I felt from the quick travel arrangements and sleeping in a room with boy my boys left me feeling somewhat hypocritical afterwards. My soul is not well. My soul is quite frazzled, anxious about missing work, and not being a good mother when I need to be, and sad for the death and sickness that I am surrounded by, friends and family, and guilt that I complain about my life, when others around me have a much harder time of it.
Too often I try to do too much, stick my nose in business it shouldn’t be in, or try to blame my need for control on someone else (namely my husband). I complain I can’t do it all, when it is I that place the expectations on myself. I am my own worst critic, and the guilt I lay on myself at times is unbearable.
But that is just this week. Maybe next week will be different. I do believe God is able to work in spite of my shortcomings in these areas. And as I pray for help (not quite knowing how to articulate what that help is for), I believe God to be victorious (as my bible study would instruct) over my current state of being and life circumstances. I need to let go of the need for control, take a chill pill and not be so guilt ridden. Now, I am tired and must find a peaceful place…sleeping in my bed sounds about right.
dancing, scrabble, & sourdough waffles
I’m not sure how many people (in the US) can say they shared a bed with their grandma for an extended period of time…I can. This post is a tribute to my beautiful grandmother, Opal Janke Nedelisky who passed away peacefully on jan 15. I was hoping to post this earlier, but it didn’t happen (obviously). Though the past 10 years of my life I haven’t been to close to this wonderful woman, my dad was reminding me of her best characteristics and attributes over the phone the other day, and I couldn’t help but remember all the wonderful memories I shared with grandma from my childhood.
Grandma loved to work in the garden and everytime we can to visit I can remember there was always some vegetable sitting on her kitchen counter which came from her garden. It was either something pickled (in the winter) or an onion, tomato, or cucumber in the summer. Yes, grandma at her garden onions raw- for lunch. While my family was in between houses, we spent part of my 3rd grade year at her house. I shared Grandma’s room. You don’t know your grandma until you seen her with her dentures out, waltzing around the room in her satin nightgown, singing her heart out to some old song that I can’t remember. She would read the bible to me every night and kneel at her bedside to pray. She was a wonderful role model to me, of a woman who had her heart set on Christ. This was just after her husband had died of cancer a few years before.
I’d like to think I was her favorite granddaughter, but I’m pretty sure she made each of her granddaughters feel that way. It was the way she cared for me, invited me for sleepovers, helped me when I was learning to read, or gently whooped me in a mean game of scrabble. And nothing beat the smell of sourdough being prepared and left overnight so that come Saturday morning, we’d have sourdough waffles with bacon bits melting inside…with syrup…kid heaven!
Her life ended after several years diagnosed with dementia. But she wasn’t fearful, angry, bitter, or upset. She was nicknamed “smiley” but the people who cared for her. She had true peace until the very end. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her, but I look forward to the day we can dance together in heaven and sing songs with the angels like we used to.
