Saying Thank You and Goodbye…for Now

A Tribute to Grandma Ingersoll

It’s been over two months now since Josh’s one-of-a-kind grandma passed away at the “young” age of 97. She was our last surviving grandparent. We miss her but are so grateful for our memories with her and for our knowledge that we will be together again in the eternities. If you didn’t already know this, my husband Josh is an incredible writer. I thought it only fitting that he should be my first guest writer on here.

Josh spoke at Grandma’s funeral, and–as usual with his talks–it made everyone laugh and also cry. Just a heads-up: Josh was a partier in his younger years. I always was attracted to bad boys. LOL

Josh was the best kind of bad boy by the time I met him, though–a REFORMED bad boy. I didn’t have to change him, but he still had an edge and all of the good stories. 😉 I have Grandma to thank for so many of the things I love about my hubby.

Here are Josh’s remarks from Grandma Thelma’s funeral:

I have lived a life surrounded by grandparents. As a child, I lived on my Grandpa Hart’s farm. Just upstairs was a man with a million stories and also my Grandma Hart’s donuts. Down the hill was Grandma Dutton. I always had to swing by to grab some hard candy from her chicken dish before I continued on through the forest to Little Grandma’s (aka Great-Grandma Hart’s). She was often working in the garden, and I was not able to leave without her feeding me something.

Then in the summer the best thing would happen. Racing through a cow pasture, pretending to be a squirrel with a lightsaber (as one does), I would look up and see a fifth wheel coming down the road. Not just any fifth wheel, it was a fifth wheel that contained my favorite set of grandparents. Grandma and Grandpa Ingersoll would set up just outside the house. For weeks I would get up with the sun, knock on their trailer door, and be invited into a magical place. A place where goose eggs were used instead of chicken eggs. Where there was a never-ending supply of Rice Krispies. Where fish was fried in beer. And where love was felt 100 percent of the time. 

To me Grandma’s love was a defining characteristic in my life. Her love is what Shakespeare was writing about when he penned these lines: 

“…Love is not love, 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken.”

And, boy, did I cook up some tempests—tempests that sent wind that shook almost everyone around me. 

At 17 I knew all the secrets of the world. I knew how to be a man; I knew how I wanted to live my life. I knew what was most important. What was most important was the girl in my math class…or maybe the girl in my science class. The party that weekend was definitely important, but it wasn’t as important as finding someone to buy me beer that day.

All of this knowledge helped me careen through life for the next five years. Some highlights included jumping the Skylark Grandma and Grandpa had given me to drive to work off a cliff, getting kidnapped at gunpoint by gangsters, and getting evicted out of five separate apartments.

But through this haze of girls, parties, and strife, my grandma shone brightly on a hill. 

No matter where I was in life, she knew where I was, and she kept a lighthouse lit showing me how to come home. She would insist on doing my laundry. She would show up with dinner. She got to know my friends.

It was not that she approved of the way I lived my life, but I knew she approved of me. She knew who I really was and loved me—patiently waiting until I understood that I didn’t know everything. Until I had hit so many dead ends that I was forced to ask for directions.

The moment I asked, she gave me a map—a map that led right through her house once more. I spent the next year rebuilding myself brick by brick—with Grandma providing the mortar.

She showed me once again how to enjoy the simpler things in life. Things like tomato sandwiches, card games, church on Sundays, and the British show As Time Goes By. That year I laid the foundation for the person I am today. It was the most peaceful time I have had in my life. I finally recognized the enduring love that radiated from my grandmother and just accepted it. 

That year illuminated for me a path to college, where I met my wife and started my career. Still, no matter where I was, I knew Grandma would be watching. Before officially proposing to Becca, I made sure to introduce her to Grandma. For years a highlight of our Christmas season was when Becca and I would spend several days sleeping over at Aunt Toni and Uncle Ken’s house since Grandma lived with them. We didn’t spend our time there doing anything special, but we talked, watched bad Hallmark movies, drove around to see Christmas lights, and went to ward Christmas parties. On the surface, it wasn’t much, but those days of doing “nothing” with Grandma meant everything to us. 

Grandma showed up at pretty much every important event: birthdays, weddings, blessings, baptisms, talks, and funerals. As important as she was during the hard times of my life, it was even better that she had a chance to see the good times—even getting to make a difference in the lives of my children. Every grandkid has a memory of sitting on her rocking chair—the same rocking chair she had as a kid.

She always had what other people needed: a joke, a meal, a dollar, or a smile. That is how I’m going to remember her. She radiated love and made everyone around her better. I know she is brimming over with joy right now because she gets to spend time with Grandpa again. And she gets to see her loved ones whenever she wants. I love you, Grandma. Thanks again for keeping me in your life. I look forward to hugging you again on the other side. 

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.