On Saturday we had a garage sale for all of my Grandma's belongings. I was bored so I dressed up in some of the old clothes and a pair of my grandma's huge glasses...as you can tell i looked pretty redic! Rachel(my cousin), my brother and I were sitting there being bored when a older mexican man came up and starting talking to us in spanish. He asked us if we spoke spanish. Well being the witty person I am (ha ha!)I said the first phrase i could remember from Spanish class, maso menos (more or less). When he was looking around at everything I decided I had Kenyon take a picture in my rediculous giddup. The man decided he wanted a picture with me to. So he put his arm around me and made me put my arm around him. You know that hysteric want to cry and laugh at the same time feeling. As you can tell by the expression on my face thats exactly what i was doing inside, totally freaking out. Kenyon, my awsome brother, saved me by saying needed some more soda. I couldn't get out of there fast enough!
So what did I learn this weekend.
1. Don't talk to strangers at garage sales.
3. I am not in the least witty
2. An old suit coat, a tie, and huge glasses is apparently hot
3. Maso Menos really means, "hit on me old fugly mexican"
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Maso menos
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Photography
Lately I'ven intrigued by talking color out of eveything in a photograph except for one thing. Here are some of the ones I've done.
This is Paco's (my grandpa from colorado) Dog.
Just some random flowers
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
In Memory of Grandma Bunker
On Sunday night I went to my Grandmas viewing. When I arrived at the church, the room was filled with things that meant the most to her, pictures of family, her scriptures, her rocking chair. In the corner a movie of her telling her life history was playing in the corner. This was how i rembered her, always telling stories. I found comfort watching it. Then they wheeled in a white casket where she lie lifeless, a stark contrast to the video playing in the corner. As the viewing progressed, may people filled the room saying their goodbyes to Grandma Bunker and offering support to her family left behind. Everyone talked and reminsced, it was a celebration for this wonderful women.
Another viewing was on monday before the funeral. As each of her children said goodbye to her before the casket I imagined Grandma placing a kiss on each on of their heads. For the funeral the grandchildren sang a Childs Prayer for the opening song. My voice quavered as i sang. My dad and uncle sang Oh My Father. President Richardson and President Ray gave talks. My aunt played a medly of hymns on the organ. Everything spoken, sung, and played testified of Christ, the perfect tribute to her for she loved her Savior. It wasn't a mourniong for her death but a celebration of her life.
Goodbye
Saturday September 29 2007
Slowly I followed my mom and dad past a white picked fence, down a winding sidewalk that led to the white hospice building. As I walked through the door the smell of antiseptic surrounded me…a smell I will forever relate with the death of my grandma. The main room looked warm and inviting with a kitchen and a family room with couches.
Hesitantly I entered my Grandma’s room Gone was the false sense of comfort and welcome, it was simply a hospital room; a place where my grandmother was sent to die. Her room was full of family and loved ones. With the blur of voices pulsing in my ears I raised my eyes to the bed where my Grandma lay. She looked so completely different then the Grandma I knew. She lay there lifeless, her vitality gone. I half expected her to open her eyes and say, “What are you kids doing? Get over her and give me a hug.” She didn’t.
My mom went to her side to hold her hand. “Would you like to hold her hand?”
I swallowed and simply shook my head. Suddenly I felt like I was suffocating, the smell of antiseptic choking me, and the crowed room compressing my lungs. I needed to breathe. I needed to get away from the ever-present knowledge of death.
My Mom and I walked into the hall and talked for a while. I couldn’t go back in the there…the room was too crowded…my fear of death to close.
“Mom, can we leave?” I asked.
Sunday October 30, 2007
Here I was again, walking past the white picked fence, down the winding sidewalk and into the antiseptic smelling hospice home. This time I felt more prepared as I entered my Grandmas room. Only a few people were there. She was breathing harder than the day before, her skin more translucent. After it was just my family in her room. We talked and reminisced. I found comfort in the simple conversation. Soon it was time to leave. I stood swallowed my fear and walked to her bed. For a few moments I simply looked at her. Then I leaned down and brushed my lips gently across her leathery cheek and smoothed my hand across her brow.
“I love you Grandma”, I whispered in my mind.
That night, October 30, 2007, my Grandma died and with her, Sunday evenings at Grandma’s, monthly newsletters telling us of her love and concern, traditional “Grandma lectures”, tacky Christmas presents, birthday cards with change in them, and the light of our family. But even though the world is a little darker, heaven is a little brighter. And there is peace in the knowledge that she is holding Grandpa’s hand once again.
