On My Moment with Grandma ‘Nisa

I had my moment

This’ll be a short post; I originally was going to add it to the end of my last post, but I figured I’d put it here instead.

On Tuesday, we had Grandma ‘Nisa’s funeral. It was really sad but also really nice to see all the Rauch family come together—your Uncle Jeff and Aunt Katie came down from Cleveland which was really nice too.

The next day we drove down to Pinehurst for Thanksgiving. It was really nice and we made some new friends. We left to come back home on Saturday morning. There is about a 20-mile stretch when you’re leaving Pinehurst where you’re on a two-lane road. On the left is a railroad track and both sides of the road are framed with these big green pine trees. Since we left early, there weren’t many other cars on the road.

The morning was perfect. You boys were either sleeping (Reagan) or reading an activity book quietly (Koen) and I think your mom had her eyes shut too.

Around the time your Grandma died, I’ve been very into an album by Turnpike Troubadours called Price of Admission. The single off that album is called “Heaven Passing Through,” and it’s something I’ve connected with her because of the timing of it all. I haven’t quite placed why it makes me think of her, other than the timing of me finding the song and the timing of her passing having been about the same.

I put it on in the car and the moment kind of hit me. I’m driving and I notice the sky on the horizon ahead of me has this purple hue that gradients into blue above us—it’s really pretty. As I’m noticing it, the chorus of the song came on:

Come back from the dark somehow
Finally living in the here and now
No sign of a thundercloud following you
Don’t take it personal
The world don’t turn around you
Hold on to the moment like it’s Heaven passing through.

I mentioned that in the hospital I kept looking out the window waiting for the clouds to break and they didn’t. I said I thought that meant Anissa still had work to do.

I don’t know what work she had to do or if she is finished with everybody, but I felt something on that drive out of Pinehurst when the “no sign of a thundercloud following you” lyric hit, and the sky looked like it did in the pictures she gave us when my grandma and grandpa died—Reagan, you still have them hanging in your room.

I wish I could have taken a picture of the sky on that drive, but I think it will stay with me for a very long time.

I’m really going to miss Grandma ‘Nisa. I told your Uncle Rese that I think it will hit me the next time we go over to their house and I walk into the kitchen and she isn’t standing there with food on the counter. I will have moments when I tear up thinking about how she isn’t here anymore, but I think my moment was her telling me that she’s OK.

Since then, we’ve set up our plans for Christmas this year and it’s going to be very different with her not here. But I have a feeling we’ll be talking about her as if she were here with us still, and I think that her presence will be there with us too.

At the end of the day, personally, I feel very lucky to not have lost a parent until now. I feel very lucky to still have two grandparents alive and to have had relationships with my other grandparents for as long as I did.

I wish you boys would have gotten to know Grandma ‘Nisa better. I hope that Papa Rauch tells you stories about her like he used to do for me and Uncle Jordan about himself. I’ve probably told you this before, but I remember Papa Rauch used to have this chest with old things from when he was a kid. I remember looking through it and him telling us stories about the fun (and trouble) he and his brothers used to get in when he was growing up. Maybe he can do that for you boys too, both about him and Grandma ‘Nisa.

Well, I’ll wrap by saying that anytime you just want to listen to what she was like, I hope you ask me. Like I said before, I don’t remember specific things as much as I do who she was and how she was and how special she was to me and Uncle Jordan (and Uncle Rese and Aunt Mauri too, obviously).

Until then, I love you boys…

Dad