It's the end of an era. Born in the 19 teens, Bunah May Klingman Heston had designs of being a teacher. However, the Great Depression intervened. She also had designs of marrying another man, but a move and her father intervened (interestingly enough, she was written to by two men, but only received letters from the one her father deemed "the lesser of two evils"). She ended up married to a farmer in Southwest Oklahoma. This is the same man she "forced" to buy a car because riding on a horse would cause runs in her hose! A diminuitive woman, Grandma loved kids, chickens, colors, new foods, stuff galore, teddy bears, knick-knacks, gossip, games, hot pink, and helping other people. She did NOT, however, love my attempt at positive thinking while riding in the back seat as Granddad drove her to the hospital for a broken arm. "Just try not to think about it, Grandma" went over like a Yankee carpetbagger in Louisiana. That's the same summer I used a lawn mower to run over her cherry trees she was trying to grow. Grandma was blunt beyond belief, having no problem asking very personal questions of my girlfriend at the time the very first time they met. Jennifer married me anyway!
Some of my favorite memories are . . . gathering eggs with/for her from the chicken coop; eating her country-fried steak; seeing my 80+ year old grandmother walk around in a hot pink sweatsuit; the box of sermon illustrations she clipped out of newspapers, newsletters, etc, and gave me for Christmas one year; the child's toy she gave me when I was a teen because she thought we could play with it together!; the too-small backpack I took to Germany with me and have since passed down to my children (far outlasting any of the "real" backpacks I used in college); her cheating at every game we played (much like her father did in dominoes); working in the garden with her, especially the summer we gathered potato bugs and talked about making a pizza with them (you had to be there); her pride at my being a minister and her love of Jesus Christ; driving her around the countryside just last month as she enjoyed the green grass, colorful flowers, and livestock . . . .
Driving down to Colorado Springs Friday night, preparing to go to a family reunion in Texas, Mom called me and told me that Grandma was gone. It was the weirdest trip down, as I alternately cried in mourning and laughed at the prospect of Grandma in heaven, face to face with Jesus Christ. I listened to an old song--"Ain't No Grave"--by Russ Taff all the way. Sorry--I'm not proficient enough to place it on here, but it's worth listening to. Saturday night, I fixed Country-fried Steak a la Grandma, and we toasted her as we ate. I think she would have appreciated it. It's really strange to me. On the one hand, Granddad was always the one we talked about--Grandma was a little strange to us. On the other hand, what an indomitable person she proved to be, and one who just grew better with age. Thank you, Jesus, for the wonderful opportunity to have Bunah Heston in my life.
