Giving Thanks

This weekend we had the unfortunate task of introducing Toby to his first funeral.

Rob’s beloved Grandfather (Toby’s great grandfather) died last weekend. It was not unexpected, but as it is with all deaths, the news still came as a bit of a shock. Plans got changed. Work got cancelled. Tears were shed.

The hoardes of Blonde relatives made their way en masse to Chatham to pay their respects. When I say, “everyone was there” I mean EVERYONE was there. And that is no small feat when you are talking about a family of 11 children and 19 grandchildren.

Rob’s grandpa lived to be 88 years old. But what is even MORE impressive is the fact that he drew 200 people to his funeral, complete with a police escort to the cemetery that had cars pulled over at the side of the road with people standing at attention, saluting as we drove past.

Now I’ve got you wondering if you missed an important funeral - -I certainly felt important being in that line of cars. But Grandpa was no Steve Jobs- his death didn’t make the headlines; as it is his modest obituary would probably have him rolling over in his grave at the cost. Grandpa Blonde was an honest and true, salt of the earth family man. He was a farmer through and through – never passing up a good meal, an opportunity to be thankful or an offering of praise for good old-fashioned hard work. He was also a devout Catholic. There were many tears at his funeral, but there was an overall feeling of peace and contentment. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Grandpa’s death was as peaceful as it seemed; he had left us for the better place he had worked his whole life to be welcomed into. The fact that so many attended is a true testament to how well he lived his life and what a legacy he has left behind.

And how did Toby do at his first funeral?

Fantatsically. It is one of the greatest privileges as a mom to be able to witness your child’s learning in front of your eyes. Toby watched the entire proceedings of the day with great attention. Often he would come and sit on my lap. Sometimes he would ask questions. He took his role of “staying quiet” very seriously and expressed appropriate concern for those who were crying, the lack of legs that Grandpa sported in his coffin and the fact that the “box” looked like it might be too heavy for Daddy to carry.

I was able to take time to listen and relieve each of his concerns; people were sad but it was OK to cry at funerals; Grandpa DID still have his legs- they were just hiding under the “shelf” (as Toby called it) and not to worry, there would be other pallbearers helping Daddy with “the box.”

I had had a bit of forewarning about the possibility of such an event when Toby had watched parts of Jack Layton’s funeral with us. He had been VERY interested and often talked about Jack and the “box” after the fact. Not surprisingly, this started a run of uncanny “Gochar mishaps” that all ended in Gochar dead and in a box (announced quite cheerfully by the innocent Toby). He has been processing this new aspect of life for a while now and this was just one more step in the journey of understanding that which we all struggle with.

At the end of the funeral, Toby was very quiet in the backseat of the car, holding the red rose he had been allowed to take off of Grandpa’s casket, when I turned and asked him if he had any questions. “No.” I then asked him if it had been like Jack’s funeral, seeing Grandpa in his box.

“Oh, NO, Mommy, “ he replied earnestly, “Jack was in a CANADA box.”

And so, this Thanksgiving, along with the usual fixings of turkey and mashed potatoes, we got an extra tasting of what it means to be thankful.

We are thankful for family and our health.

We are thankful for great friends who willingly take our dog on their own Thanksgiving adventures so we would have one less thing to worry about.

We are thankful for colleagues who eagerly covered my practice without a second thought.

We are thankful for Grandparents who pretended to have nothing on so that we wouldn’t feel badly about leaving Mia with them.

And most importantly, we are thankful for the legacy of one simple farmer who, through a life well lived, continually brings us all together, reminding us all that it is the simple things in life that count and, most importantly of all, started the chain of events that brought me my Toby and Mia.

And if Grandpa taught us anything at it all, it’s that at the end of the day, there is nothing more important than that.