A Life Well Lived

My Grandma died on October 21, 2015.

She was 90, so it's not as if she was denied a long life; she had Alzheimer's, so the mind of a fiercely intelligent woman was all but gone, as were most of her physical abilities. She passed with family and friends by her side, so she thankfully didn't die alone.

A simple, beautiful memorial service was held last week at a small Mennonite church in Toronto. It was a comfort to see the room overflowing with people who came to pay their last respects, to honor the life of a woman who'd done so much for them. Growing up 400 miles away in a different country, I never had the opportunity to get to know my Grandma's day-to-day routines, but I always knew what a special lady she was. I just had no clue how many others felt the same way.

Agnes Mary Stewart Ford was the second of nine children and when her older brother George died in WWII, that left her as the eldest. She was one of those rare people who nearly everyone who met her liked her, and her soft-spoken nature would become a pillar of strength and respect in her large extended family.

She loved God & her family fiercely. She and my Grandpa, Fred Billedeau, were deeply involved in the church, and after he died (young, at 66 in 1993), she not only remained active, but assumed some of his duties as well. No one could quite figure out how she did it, and at times the physical strain showed, but she remained an active member of the community until forced into hospitalization, then a nursing home, in her late 80s.

Agnes was a loving Grandma; she always had words of love and encouragement, and showed an interest in what her grandchildren were up to (that, at least, is my experience). I looked forward to holiday and birthday cards, as most who knew her did, because each was picked after careful consideration for its recipient and filled with a personal, hand-written message.

She was slow to anger and rarely lost her temper and even in bad situations, by all accounts, never raised her voice (a trait I sadly did not inherit). Respect for others came naturally to her and she, in turn, earned the respect of all who knew her. Following the example set decades before by her own parents, if someone was in need, she would help in any way possible.

90 years of living cannot possibly be summed up in one short essay, so let me say this: I did not write this in mourning or looking for sympathy, but as a tribute and a meditation on how we live our lives by using her as a shining example of goodness. And that's exactly what my grandmother was: Good. As a sister, daughter, wife, mother,grandmother, aunt, friend, member of her community and the world at large, she was a good person. She's one of the few people I've met who I am certain made it directly to Heaven to be reunited with family and friends gone before her.

At the end of our own lifetimes, we should all hope to be remembered the same way.