in honor of two great lives.

my grandad (dad's dad, not the one from a few posts ago) lived an awesome life. he knew what he loved and he went after it. his determination truly served him well. after 90 full and happy years, my grandad, monk wade, passed away last sunday.

i'm not aiming for one of those cliche life-is-too-short-to-struggle-with-whatever-you're-struggling-with posts, so keep reading. (i can't promise there won't be hints of it here and there, but i plan to put my own twist on it)

At the service this morning, as the preacher highlighted precious strands of memory from monk's life, the one that made my eyes shine with tears was from his wife's (my dear grandmother vera) funeral.

i'd never known or heard this until today, but apparently as they put my grandmother in the ground, monk turned to the preacher (who has now officiated both of their funerals) and said, "i wish i could just crawl into that casket with her".

it really cut into my heart to think of a love like that. it got me thinking, too, about my grandmother vera (we named her, "scat" after the phrase she ruthlessly hissed at our cat every he came within two feet of us when we were babies)

scat was a precious-hearted, saint of a woman. she died of alztheimer's about 5 years ago, so even then it'd already been a number of years since she'd been herself.

but as i sat there and let the truth of the current circumstances-- my grandfather dying, my dad's dad dying, all the people who hadn't witnessed his declining health and the renewed perspective of his best years they brought-- i realized what was really happening and that it's going to happen to everyone i love and i wondered why this sense of love and loss and life's fragility hadn't really gotten to me at scat's funeral like it had today.

i thought back to scat's funeral. and i realized why it was fuzzy. scat's funeral was in march, five years ago. in march, five years ago, i was roughly four months into my eating disorder.

i remember that day, waking up and feeling thrilled because the scale had read ** pounds that morning. i felt the skinniest i'd felt yet. I remember my mom saying something to me about some friends of hers making comments at the visitation about how thin i'd gotten.

Once the funeral and burial were over, we went back to scat and monk's and there was food everywhere. i remember really letting myself eat that day because it was kind of an occasion. i didn't feel guilty about it because i hadn't eaten in weeks and wouldn't again after that day.

that afternoon my mom's mom, nini, took me to look for prom dresses. i'd officially become a size *. in fact, a lot of the size *'s were too big, and i had to have a size *, which i never thought i'd actually reach.

those are the things that i really remember about that day. and i can never have that day back. and scat deserves a heck of a lot more than that.

but when i look back on today, i'll remember feeling love and appreciation for my grandfather and his life, feeling proud of my dad as he read his own father's eulogy, and above all, feeling grateful to my precious Lord Jesus for his grace and redemption as person after person motioned heavenward and said, "monk was ready to go home".

today, as i live in recovery, i live also in reality, and in reality, as we see my memories of monk's funeral vs. scats, is where life is.

it isn't fair to scat, or to me, that my eating disorder kept me out of reality that day. and as much as i hate my body today, and very well may hate it a lot of days, i know that anything that would take my presence-of-mind from the laying to rest of my precious grandmother is something that i want as far away from my heart and mind as i can manage to get it.

let this post settle into your heart and mind and aid you in your respective struggles, and let it do so in loving memory and tribute to monk and scat wade. he was truly a character and she was truly a saint.

here's to their lives, my life, and your life. let's not waste it.