A Ruth-less World

On February 5, 2011 at 8:46 AM my grandma, Ruth Hardy Funk, passed away.  She died just 6 days shy of her 94th birthday.  For those of you that knew my grandma, you know that she was an amazing, accomplished woman.  She was a wonderful pianist and held numerous high offices in her church (General Young Woman's President), community (Chairman of the State Board of Education), and in the corporate world (on the General Board of Bonneville Communications).  But more than that, she was my grandma that hung my ugly painting in her living room for the last 12 years and took me to Marie Calendars to eat belgium waffles and Boston Cream Pie every year for my birthday.  Despite being the most social 90 year-old ever, and having countless "dear friends" she was always able to remember the minor things that were going on in my life and would sincerely want to know more about them.  There was nothing more important to her than people, both individually and collectively, and if there is anyone of which it could be said "she loved everyone" it would be my grandma Ruth.

The night before she passed, I was fortunate enough to see her.  I was flying back to Aspen from a business trip and my flight happened to stop over in Salt Lake.  By then my mother had called me and told me what was happening.  I ditched the rest of my flight and upon landing in Salt Lake, went straight to my grandmother's house.  By the time I had gotten there, she wasn't able to say much, and the little she did say didn't make much sense.  But even still, I was grateful that I had the chance to see her while she was still here.  Shortly after I arrived, I had the chance to be alone with her, hold her hand and tell her how much I loved her.  She couldn't verbally respond, but occasionally she would squeeze my hand in response to something I said.  I don't know if she understood anything I said to her, or even knew it was me saying it, but something about the way she held my hand told me she knew I was there and she was happy for it.  It was a moment I will always remember.  Both bitter and sweet.

I will miss her.

But even though I miss her, I feel nothing but joy and happiness for her right now.  The vibrant spirit that is her's has been trapped in that limited and failing body for so many years now.  I'm so happy to think that she is finally free to fully be that wonderful person that she is.  As our church leader said to my mother yesterday, "I'm sure she is really stirring things up up there."  I have no doubt that she is.

Grandma, I love you.