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My Grandma Loretta (Again)

 If memory serves, her birthday was March 1. And if I have my years right, she died in 2018, just before she would have turned 93.

I saw her a few months before she died. When I think about being a Kettinger, she’s who I think of, along with my father and his siblings, both here, and in the hereafter.

One of my brothers is not known for his churchgoing, but he read a Scripture at the Funeral Mass. Nailed it. I have never nailed anything like that in my life. It’s a bit hard to describe my career in simple terms, but if someone described me as a professional Bible reader, I couldn’t deny it. I still couldn’t have done it as well as my brother did that day.

At some point, the faithful were invited to sing “On Eagles’ Wings.” I’ve always loved it, but now it’s forever associated with all the love I received from my grandmother, and the courageous life she lived. A dear friend said that he caught the priest rolling his eyes when the hymn started, but he sang it with gusto, like he wrote it. I have always admired him for that.

Death clarifies so much, but I’m also glad that resurrection hope in Christ transforms death. Why do we try to celebrate life without Christ?

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