Sometimes there are no words.

That’s what happened for me this past weekend.  Grandma’s memorial couldn’t have been more special.  There couldn’t have been more laughter and memories dancing in the air.  There is no way that one more ounce of love could have squeezed its way into the room.  A gathering of friends and family whose combined years and memories would be in the thousands.  Wonderful things said.  Beautiful “Just knowings” that didn’t need to be said.

Yesterday at breakfast, the group narrowed down to Grandma’s kids, grandkids and great grandkids.  All of us around the massive dining table at my Aunt Connie’s warm and inviting house that has held all of our family gatherings over the years.  Familiar faces with new lines, creases and marks of rich history.  Faces on each of us in the older generations that have been left with the indentations of great laughter and deep loss.  Joy and pain.  New faces that have taken their places at the table because of marriage.  Old memories recounted and new ones being made right then and there.  Mmmmmm…. Rich.  Deep.  Delicious.

Laughter heavily outweighed tears yesterday.  Not diminishing or ignoring existing pain or difficulties, but embracing those scars with hope. This crazy, loud, funny family of mine has each other’s backs.  No. Matter. What. What I saw at that table yesterday with its stories and teasing and remembering was symbolic of the bond of arms interlocked to face the world with the love and support of each of these time-graced faces.

This group will continue to change in numbers.  New members will be welcomed in.  Seasoned members, like Grandma, will at some point be ushered on to eternity.  But no matter the changes, one thing will remain constant.  Love.  Love of God.  Love of each other.  Love of life.

After all, love is the music to which all of our memories dance…