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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
September 8, 2013
Published as Family History
in a Gramma Letter dated
September 12, 1995.
© 1995 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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Woman Napping, 1998
© 1998 by Bud Grossmann
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PERMISSION
Tuesday, September 12, 1995
Dear Gramma,
Trying to think of something to write about today, I came up with two topics that interest me: green beans and death. I’ve decided to postpone my cogitation concerning green beans.
The Grim Reaper—though ever present and ever near—sometimes escapes my notice. As I proceed along life’s rutted, hilly trail, so long as Death stays still and silent in the shadows, I stride along, scarcely pausing to murmur Good day.
In recent weeks, though, Death’s bony hand has brushed against me, and I have had to look into the hollow sockets of his eyes and humbly call him Sir. I have smelled the wooly dampness of his hooded cloak and heard the rattle of the loosened wooden grips on the curved hickory handle of his eternally sharpened scythe. Is Death coming now for me? This I do not know. I feel fine—I eat the healthy meals my wife prescribes, I drive within the speed limit, and when I walk on city sidewalks I keep alert for pianos threatening to topple from windows up above.
But the Grim Reaper has indicated an interest in some of my friends and family, and I begin each day with prayers for them. I ask the Lord to grant courage, strength, and peace to those I love.
My mom told me on the phone, Gramma, that you spent several days in the hospital last week while doctors monitored a side pain that was troubling you. She said you reported feeling better after you returned to your own bed (with a new mattress furnished by Aunt Dorie). I hope your doctors find an explanation for your pain, and I hope they can provide an effective treatment.
It may seem strange, but when you, Gramma, ninety-four years old, go into the hospital, I don’t picture the menacing, wool-robed, fellow with the scythe looming anywhere near you. You have shouldered him aside so many times over the years that I imagine him now meekly standing back and allowing you to walk right past, as you please.
Because you have often told me so, I realize you are “ready to go” whenever the Lord calls you from this earth. I hope his summons won’t arrive for a good long while. I hope your body will continue to serve you reliably and that your heart and mind will continue to enjoy family and friends, sweet memories, and countless small pleasures of everyday life.
Your good nature and Christian example, Gramma, have helped me and many others as we face sorrows of our own. Your abiding hope and your trust in God have inspired us. Because of your example, I am less frightened in the presence of Death.
I have thanked you for your courage before. Today, however, I will tell you something a little different: you don’t have to be a rock of strength at all times. You have earned the privilege to cry, curse, and complain when you are feeling low, and those of us who love you will give back to you some of the courage and patience you have given us. We will take you in our arms, and we’ll do our best to let you feel the loving embrace of our God.
•
Thank you for listening while I write about gloom. Next week I intend to say something light and pleasant on the topic of green beans.
Love,
Buddy
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This page was updated Sat, Sep 7, 2013, 7:01PM CDT
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© 2013 by Bud Grossmann
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