A few things: She has ACTUALLY tied over 600 (not 200) quilts for LDS Humanitarian Aid. All in the past 5 years (2005-2010), all while legally blind. And her first quilt was made in 1935, not 1938. She was 15 years old.
She was sick with scarlet fever, when she was 15 years old, and bored, so her mother told her to make a quilt. She gave her some fabric, and grandma cut out the pieces. Then her father gave her some wool from the sheep he herded, and she used homemade soap to clean it and make the quilt batting. It is absolutely gorgeous.
There was another viewing, which was very hard, then my father gave the family prayer in the viewing room. After that, the casket was closed, right after us, the immediate family, offered our final goodbyes. That was the start of a day of tears. It was so hard to physically have to say goodbye, in any sense, let alone in front of plenty of people I didn't know.
After that, we all moved into the chapel of the church, where my Grandma Houston, her oldest daughter spoke first. Grandma gave a simple life sketch, highlighting the most memorable and important moments of Grandma Cobbley's life.
Next on the program was mine and Kelli's musical number. I am not a very good performer in front of crowds. Especially with the piano. The song I played was simple; like a hymn, and I had practiced it probably a total of 5 or 6 hours. I knew it by heart, but as I got onto the stand and sat at the piano, it took me at least 30 seconds to get my legs to stop shaking, and my racing hands to calm down (although, they never did...). Kelli and I had only run through the song together 2 or 3 times shortly before the program, and I was nervous about my tempo and the new introduction she was having me do.
Aside from the uncontrollable shaking of my legs and hands, and tears filling my eyes, followed by constant sobbing, I managed to finish the entire song, all 3 verses, without one mistake. It was truly a miracle! And even though Kelli had no time to warm up her voice, she sounded absolutely amazing, as usual. It was perfect.
I was so glad that my great uncle Larry was the one to speak after our performance. Larry has always been so light-hearted and such a comic relief. He told funny stories, and made his talk short and sweet. The only other living child of my Great-Grandma Cobbley is my great uncle Norman, who chose not to speak. I'm not sure whether it was his emotions being so strong, or the fact that he is in the early stages of Alzheimer's that kept him from making some remarks.
My second cousin Sienna, then played a violin duet with my cousin Lyndsey on the piano, which sounded beautiful.
The Bishop of Grandma's ward spoke next, and he made me realize what kind of legacies have been left behind by my Grandma. The legacy of strong women in our family. The fact that her some 600 quilts are now keeping children and families all across the world warm at night, and the legacy of service, hard work and faith. She was such an amazing woman.
My little brother, who is only 14, and was so close to her, got to be a pallbearer, along with our other cousins and second cousins.
Next we followed the hearse to the cemetery, where Grandma's plot had been picked out for years, right next to her first husband, Jeff Peck. My Grandpa Houston said the dedicatory prayer, and we were then left to visit.
I wanted to pick a sunflower from the field next to Grandma Cobbley's house to place on her casket, but didn't have time this morning. The best I could do was make sure to carefully place a small flower on the casket that had fallen out of the arrangement already there, next to the carnations that each pallbearer had worn on their suit.
The relief society had prepared a delicious luncheon for us after the program, and we had a couple hours to visit and share.
After the luncheon... everything was over. We are expected to go back to our lives, like any regular day, any regular time. I don't understand how I am going to be capable of returning to a regular life any time in the near future, when I still can't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.
I know she is at peace now. She is an angel, watching over me and my family. She can see now, her shoulders don't hurt. She's not always cold. She has no technology to complain about. She is in safe hands.
The most touching part of the entire service for me, was the simple poem on the back of the programs:
May I Go?
May I go now?
Do you think the time is right?
May I say goodbye to pain-filled days
And endless, lonely nights?
I've lived my life and done my best,
An example tried to be.
So can I take that step beyond
And set my spirit free?
I want to do, I really do,
It's difficult to stay.
But I will try as best I can
to live just one more day.
To give you time to care for me,
and share your love and fears,
I know you're sad and are afraid
Because I see your tears.
I'll not be far, I promise that.
And hope you'll always know,
That my spirit will be close to you
Wherever you may go.
Thank you so much for loving me.
You know I love you too.
That's why it's hard to say goodbye,
And end this life with you.
So hold me now, just one more time
And let me hear you say,
Because you care so much for me,
You'll let me go today.
--Susan A. Jackson
I almost feel like the words of this poem were taken straight from Grandma's mouth. She sure put up a fight. I doubt it was easy for the simple cause of old age to take her down. She was always a fighter. There is no doubt she had a strong heart right up the last moment.
Every time we would say goodnight to Grandma after helping her with small simple tasks throughout the day these last couple weeks, it was hard to make out, but she never failed to say "Thank you for today" or "Thanks a million". What an example.
The last thing I remember her saying, that is so clear in my mind, is when I said goodnight to her one night, I grabbed her hand so tight when I noticed her trying to reach for mine and I bent down close and said "I love you so much, Grandma, goodnight"
She sat for a moment, finding an ounce of energy, and carefully let out "I love you too". So much effort went into such a simple phrase. And even though the phrase is simple, it definitely means a lot more to me then anything else ever has.
I am so happy she is in heaven. I know she isn't lonely. I know she's been put to work, which she probably insisted on, and I know she is finally in a place where she can truly be happy again. I am so glad that she is in no more pain. I can't wait to be with her again, but for now, I think I'll be okay, knowing she is watching out for me :)
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