My earliest memory of loss goes back to my grandpa (1971). I was in early elementary school at the time. The feelings of being overwhelmed by his death still cloud my vision today.
Ed Avery (Apr 30, 1971, to December 7, 1971), or as we call him “Popo,” lived in a small community outside of San Antonio, Texas, in Boldtville. I was too young to appreciate many things about the man. What I do know came from stories of how he cared for his community, served at the local Presbyterian Church up the road (literally), and faithfully provided for his family. He and my grandmother, “Momo”, ran the Avery’s General Store at the corner of Foster Road and Sulphur Springs Road. Boldtville. I can remember making a trip to town with Popo in his beat-up pick-up truck. I don’t want to scare any younger readers, but I didn’t sit in a car seat, and I’m not sure the truck even had working seat belts. I do remember making stops at various stories and markets to pick up everything from Levi’s to candy bars. What a life!
It is hard to imagine what was going through my 7-year-old mind as we headed down to Boldtville from Dallas, but I have an overwhelming sense of sadness. Popo always looked old in my eyes, but at 68, Parkinson’s Disease had taken its toll on his frail body. Looking at him as he lay in the casket, I wanted to touch him and ensure he wasn’t just sleeping. And listening to the preacher talk about Popo being in heaven did nothing for me. I just knew I missed him. Nothing else made sense. So, I fought back the tears and tried to be a big girl. I cried myself to sleep that night and others to come. I just wanted my Popo back.
Perhaps you have a similar memory. Someone you loved died, and you just didn’t understand. You just hurt. You didn’t know how to find a resolution. No one told you what to do with those emotions, so you bit back and help that secret. Perhaps you still don’t know what to do with that pain. Then I invite you on a journey. One that leads to finding hope and healing and renewed faith in what might feel like an impossible loss.
Reflection
- What is your earliest memory of loss?
- What do you remember from that loss?
- How has that shaped how you experience loss now?
