The following is what I read at the during prayers at the visitation for my grandfather, Leslie Jennings, Jr. He died September 14, 2008. The first was written by my brother, Joshua, who lives in Brazil with his wife, Waleska. He sent it via email.
I wrote only a little of the second section, which I squeezed around a passage from the Wendell Berry story, Stand By Me. I added another paragraph from what I read – I think it helps to illuminate the theme better. I’ve meant to post this sooner for those at the showing who wanted to read it, and also because it’s worthy of posting.
Josh:
Dear Loved Ones,
I apologize, especially to Grandmother, for not being able to be present in Henderson now and for the funeral to celebrate the life of the great man who was my grandfather. I write the following words in remembrance of one of the most important influences in my life. I told Grandmother, before I left, that I wanted Waleska and I to have a marriage like Granddad and her (as well as that of my parents and my aunts and uncle), full of everlasting love.
Faith, Hope and Love. The most important of these is Love. Sixty-four years of love between Sarah and Leslie Jennings is and forever shall be the example that we are to follow. In popular culture, marriage and love are made to look like romantic impossibilities. We have our own personal and familial example in Granddad and Grandmother Jennings. In spite of Granddad's death, the love continues because it is that which transcends all space and time. All of the love that he showed us through his actions is to continue through us and is to be carried out in our actions.
When I think of Granddad Jennings, I cannot help but to think of St. Joseph the Worker. Joseph has no citation attributed to him in any historical or religious text, so we assume he was a man of few words. However, he was a man of immense love and service to his family by always providing for them. We assume that he was dedicated to his carpentry so that he could provide for his family. Leslie Jennings was a man of few words (as am I), but he was dedicated to his wife and to his family through his work and service to them. He was a blue-collar worker like Joseph, and he loved his family immensely like Joseph.
The fondest memories that I have a Grandad are of him picking us up from school to go through the drive-thru at Hardee's, and then taking us to his house where we would wait for Mom to come pick us up while we watched sports (Cubs). Every Christmas, we looked forward to drinking Irish creme made by Granddad to please our palates. We looked forward to his presence at Easter as well. He was at all of our birthday parties. He always went to our athletic events to support us. He was at our graduations. And he was at Mass everyday praying for us. He was present at all of these functions because he loved us. Thank you, Granddad!
Let us carry on Granddad's example of love!
Me:
I’ve been thinking about this short passage for the past several days. I happened upon it over the weekend quite by accident and immediately re-read it. It’s a couple of paragraphs taken from a story by the Kentucky writer Wendell Berry, and I first read it earlier this summer and highlighted it then. It was and is something that pushes me to think about those who I love and have died, and those who will.
What gets you is the knowledge, that sometimes can fall on you in a clap, that the dead are gone absolutely from this world. As has been said around here over and over again, you are not going to see them anymore, ever. Whatever was done or said before is done or said for good. Any questions you think you ought to’ve asked while you had a chance are never going to be answered. The dead know, and you don’t.
I wrote only a little of the second section, which I squeezed around a passage from the Wendell Berry story, Stand By Me. I added another paragraph from what I read – I think it helps to illuminate the theme better. I’ve meant to post this sooner for those at the showing who wanted to read it, and also because it’s worthy of posting.
Josh:
Dear Loved Ones,
I apologize, especially to Grandmother, for not being able to be present in Henderson now and for the funeral to celebrate the life of the great man who was my grandfather. I write the following words in remembrance of one of the most important influences in my life. I told Grandmother, before I left, that I wanted Waleska and I to have a marriage like Granddad and her (as well as that of my parents and my aunts and uncle), full of everlasting love.
Faith, Hope and Love. The most important of these is Love. Sixty-four years of love between Sarah and Leslie Jennings is and forever shall be the example that we are to follow. In popular culture, marriage and love are made to look like romantic impossibilities. We have our own personal and familial example in Granddad and Grandmother Jennings. In spite of Granddad's death, the love continues because it is that which transcends all space and time. All of the love that he showed us through his actions is to continue through us and is to be carried out in our actions.
When I think of Granddad Jennings, I cannot help but to think of St. Joseph the Worker. Joseph has no citation attributed to him in any historical or religious text, so we assume he was a man of few words. However, he was a man of immense love and service to his family by always providing for them. We assume that he was dedicated to his carpentry so that he could provide for his family. Leslie Jennings was a man of few words (as am I), but he was dedicated to his wife and to his family through his work and service to them. He was a blue-collar worker like Joseph, and he loved his family immensely like Joseph.
The fondest memories that I have a Grandad are of him picking us up from school to go through the drive-thru at Hardee's, and then taking us to his house where we would wait for Mom to come pick us up while we watched sports (Cubs). Every Christmas, we looked forward to drinking Irish creme made by Granddad to please our palates. We looked forward to his presence at Easter as well. He was at all of our birthday parties. He always went to our athletic events to support us. He was at our graduations. And he was at Mass everyday praying for us. He was present at all of these functions because he loved us. Thank you, Granddad!
Let us carry on Granddad's example of love!
Me:
I’ve been thinking about this short passage for the past several days. I happened upon it over the weekend quite by accident and immediately re-read it. It’s a couple of paragraphs taken from a story by the Kentucky writer Wendell Berry, and I first read it earlier this summer and highlighted it then. It was and is something that pushes me to think about those who I love and have died, and those who will.
What gets you is the knowledge, that sometimes can fall on you in a clap, that the dead are gone absolutely from this world. As has been said around here over and over again, you are not going to see them anymore, ever. Whatever was done or said before is done or said for good. Any questions you think you ought to’ve asked while you had a chance are never going to be answered. The dead know, and you don’t.
And yet their absence puts them with you in a way they never were before. You even maybe know them better than you did before. They stay with you, and in a way you go with them. They
don’t live on in your heart, but your heart knows them. As your heart gets bigger on the inside, the world gets bigger on the outside. If the dead were alive only in this world, you would forget them, looks like as soon as they die. But you remember them, because they were always living in the other, bigger world while they lived in this little one, and this one and the other one are the same. You can’t see this with your eyes looking straight ahead. It’s with your side vision, so to speak, that you see it. The longer I live, and the better acquainted I am among the dead, the better I see it. I am telling what I know.
--Wendell Berry, from Stand By Me
Granddad’s gone to a better and bigger place, but he’s in our place, too. He lives in our memories. Our hearts know him. All of our hearts are bigger. He is in the other, bigger world, but he is in our world, too. He is a part of our lives and will influence each of our lives and because of that, he will influence those around us, and this is, I think, how one good man leaves his world better. I, too, am like my brother – I will try to be like my granddad.
don’t live on in your heart, but your heart knows them. As your heart gets bigger on the inside, the world gets bigger on the outside. If the dead were alive only in this world, you would forget them, looks like as soon as they die. But you remember them, because they were always living in the other, bigger world while they lived in this little one, and this one and the other one are the same. You can’t see this with your eyes looking straight ahead. It’s with your side vision, so to speak, that you see it. The longer I live, and the better acquainted I am among the dead, the better I see it. I am telling what I know.
--Wendell Berry, from Stand By Me
Granddad’s gone to a better and bigger place, but he’s in our place, too. He lives in our memories. Our hearts know him. All of our hearts are bigger. He is in the other, bigger world, but he is in our world, too. He is a part of our lives and will influence each of our lives and because of that, he will influence those around us, and this is, I think, how one good man leaves his world better. I, too, am like my brother – I will try to be like my granddad.
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