Rest in Peace, Grandma and Grandpa

This December I lost both of my remaining grandparents, Robert and Theresa Bergs.

In many ways I feel it happened in the best way it possibly could have, and maybe that’s not what you’re supposed to say when two wonderful people have died, but it feels true. I know many friends who have lost grandparents or other relatives very suddenly, and for my family that wasn’t the case. With my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s and my grandfather’s cancer both developing over the past few years, my family has had the time to slowly prepare for these losses, as difficult as they may be. Still, even with the time we had, I know everyone in my family wishes they had just a bit more.

Though I was born in Illinois and spent the first nine years of my life there, most of my friends still believe that I am from Wisconsin, where my grandparents lived. That’s because it’s hard to get me to talk about many childhood memories that don’t include them. I don’t mean to imply that my time in Illinois wasn’t wonderful. But when I think of those early school years, I think of Grandma and Grandpa faithfully driving into town for every Grandparents’ Day, or seeing me perform as one of the stepsisters in my kindergarten production of Cinderella. When I think of family dinners, I think of ten or more Bergs packed into the dining room, with Grandma getting up every two seconds to fetch ketchup, pickles, cottage cheese, or any other random thing one of us could have possibly mentioned wanting. I think of how Laura wanted to learn how to make French onion soup, so Grandma spent two days making the vegetable stock herself.

The list of memories goes on. Each time we drove up to the house I smiled at a sign that read “Grandchildren spoiled here” and giggled with delight as Grandpa scooped me up and Grandma offered me a cookie. Every summer we had College for Kids, when my sister and I spent two weeks frantically trying to keep up with my fast-paced Grandmother as she trekked around the college campus, holding tight to each of our hands. There were Grandpa’s nearly-always-burned cheeseburgers that still managed to taste good, but maybe that’s just because we saw how much he enjoyed making them and we – the grandchildren at least – didn’t know any better.  There were hundreds of baked goods, from homemade bread to cinnamon rolls to the never-ending supply of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. There were afternoons when I diligently played the same songs over and over again on the piano – quite badly – and no one asked me to stop, and Grandpa just sang along, even as I stumbled. There was family baseball in the evenings, and infamous Bergs’ tail gaiting for Brewers games, which always involved a tent, a grill, and at least five dishes, courtesy of Toots (my grandmother’s nickname).

When I was nine and my family moved to Texas and our trips dwindled down to just twice a year, Grandma and Grandpa were still the highlight of my calendar. I loved the traditions of it all, like seeing fireworks every summer, and all of the festivities that came with Christmas Eve. Summers were still filled with grilling and baseball and picnics and trips to the lake, and winters still had sledding and presents and warmth and Santa. My grandparents are the reason Christmas is still my favorite holiday.

Grandma and Grandpa made their home a loving and faithful one, and that is the part of their memory that I hope to keep alive as I move throughout the rest of my life. There were always prayers at dinner, before and after, and the entire household gathered in the evenings for nightly prayers as well. It was our chance to say we were grateful for the many things we had, and Grandma especially made it a point to let the grandchildren know how fortunate we all were for the many blessings we had. Then she and Grandpa would tuck us in, singing “You Are My Sunshine” and “Tell Me Why” until we felt sleepy. When I was fourteen and my Oma – my mom’s mother and the only other grandparent I’ve known – was dying, Grandma sang me to sleep, even though I should have been too old for that sort of thing. We prayed, she told me loved me, and she let me know that things would be okay.

It’s been very difficult the past few years to watch my grandparents move into those final stages of life. With my grandfather it was in watching a prideful and capable man having to ask for help for the first time in his life. It was in watching him have to learn to take care of the woman who in many ways ran their house for over fifty years. In the final days of Grandpa’s life I broke down into tears with a close friend, regretting how far away I had been for so long, wishing I had written more often, and thinking that he must have felt so lonely sometimes, alone in his assisted living apartment, with only my grandmother, who seemed to have forgotten everything about her life and who she was. She never seemed to forget who my grandfather was, though. I will never forget the way she reacted when my uncle sadly told her that Grandpa had died, as if even though she didn’t mentally understand his words, something in her soul had broken. It was more of a reaction than I had seen out of her in two years.

The night before my grandfather died, my dad was giving Grandma a kiss goodnight and she told him, “We did the best we could.” It’s hard to say if she knew what she was saying, but my dad told her she was right, that we had all done the best we could. It is this attitude, of trying your hardest and leaving the rest to God, that will always epitomize Grandma to me. It is the attitude I hope to pass on to my own grandchildren one day.

In the days since Grandpa’s death I had often thought of Grandma, alone and confused and in a new facility where she could be treated individually, and it all just seemed wrong. The nurses had put one of Grandpa’s shirts over a pillow to help her sleep, but it helped only a little and she wasn’t eating very much. I thought that even if she might not have known why, she must have felt sad to be without her husband for the first time in nearly 60 years. It’s the horrible thing that no one ever wants to say, but I’ll admit it: to be alive for her at that point seemed cruel. I prayed for her to be with Grandpa soon, because I knew it was where she belonged, even if parts of all of us still selfishly wanted her here or weren’t ready to let go.

It is fitting to me that Grandma passed away on Christmas Eve, the day when for twenty-five years her family gathered in her home. When I remember her on Christmas Eve in years to come it will not be with sadness, but with the fond recollection of all of the happiness she and Grandpa brought into my life.

The rest of my family is flying up to Wisconsin today for her funeral, and due to plans that I had made months ago I am unable to go along with them – a difficult decision that my parents and I made together. I will be thinking about and praying for them and the rest of my family, especially my father and his siblings, during this time. And when I pick them up at the airport Saturday morning I will be waiting with supportive hugs. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but it’s the best I can do.

I think I’ve rambled, and for that I’m sorry, but in closing I want to leave everyone with some advice that my grandparents gave me in letters they wrote to me for my confirmation. To me it embodies who they were and who I one day hope to be.

“I was reminded a couple of years ago about how when you were little I sang “You are My Sunshine” and that was a special song for you. The song is about a lonesome cowboy on the range feeling sorry for himself. That is not the part to practice in your life. The source of your sunshine in this life is God, who will always be with you. It is your job to show that sunshine to everyone who comes in contact with you. It is also important show that God’s love and sunshine is always there for everyone, even if they think it would not be there for them because they goofed.”

            ~ Robert Bergs

“Since Christmas, I have told many people about the lesson you learned at the early age of fifteen about getting along with friends and other people. Many people spend a whole lifetime and never learn the way to “Let it Go.” Father Dave has a sermon about that which is one of my favorites and he is always saying, “LET IT GO!” I hope this attitude will help you in many of your relationships in life. We pray for you each day that you will make good choices as you go throughout your life, and ask that God blesses you.”

            ~ Theresa “Toots” Bergs

Rest in peace, Grandma and Grandpa. We will all miss you.