I've only known Willie Barr for a short, short two years. I can count the number of times I've really gotten to talk to her, hear her stories and learn about the incredible life that she lived. But yesterday, when I learned she had gone to meet her Savior, I felt a strange sense of loss over someone who I had essentially, not known very well.
I remember some of the last words she spoke to me about her husband: "It's been 20 years, and I still miss him so much. I never thought I would be here this long, that I'd live to see 20 years without him. It must mean that the Lord still has something for me to do, and I know my Bill is up there cheering me on...I've always felt like I could do more than I believed I could because I knew he was up there watching me, and believing in me." I told her then how terrified I was of losing Peter, and living how she had these last two decades. That I didn't understand how she could be so brave. I said the only thing I really wanted from this life was to honor God and to grow very old with Peter. She sat quietly for a moment, thinking, and then said to me "I think you will. I bet that you will grow old together." And then she smiled at me with a knowing little look in her pretty eyes.
Yesterday there was a reunion in Heaven that she waited 20 long years for. I wish I could have seen it. When we learned in the morning that she was gone, that was the first thing I thought, "they're together again" and the joy I felt for her outweighed my sadness for me and the rest of her family. I know that she was more excited about seeing her Savior, than she was even about seeing her husband. Now she has both and I couldn't be happier for her, or more sad for us.
I know so little of her. In September when we were all in Minnesota, moving her out to Wyoming, we found an old photo album of her. Pictures of her as a little girl, a teen, a young woman. She came from a pretty wealthy family, I'm told, and her family was shocked when she decided to run away to India with a poor missionary boy. Then she further surprised everyone by having five children (I'm not sure if all were born in India or not, but Peter's mom was). She would be in the Punjab with five kids, while Bill would go on trips to the tribes that lived up away in the mountains. This woman was brave. She's seen Europe and Asia, pretty extensively and told me a funny story about getting lost in Italy, with no money when Bill was in the hospital there. She didn't even have enough to pay the doctors and get him out of the hospital so they could leave...and she laughed as she told me. It was an adventure, and they made it okay. After Bill died, she used to go visit her children in Indonesia, and make the trip all by herself, and stay for weeks at a time. She went to YWAM at about the age of 70, and learned to scuba dive. We teased her these last few months, because when we found her photo album, I learned something that shocked me about her. She was hot. Smoking hot. You couldn't even call her pretty, it would have been a sad understatement. She was stunning, beautiful, sexy even. She was a beautiful older woman, but as a girl in her 20's, she could have won contests, money, and no doubt, the heart of any man she'd have wanted. She laughed when I showed her the pictures and told her that I wish I could look like her, or at the very least have those gorgeous legs. I wonder what she looks like today, in Heaven. I wish I could see her up there.
I want to be like Grandma. Even though I've known her such a short time, I'm so sad that she's gone. I wanted my kids to meet her, to know her. To hear the way she told stories and laughed. We have a small book of her adventures in India with her family, and I'll treasure it always, and read it to my kids one day. Most of all though, I want to die the way she did. In a way that nobody who really knew her could mourn for her. We mourn for us. For the hole she'll leave in the lives of everyone who knew her. But every person I've spoken to, has said one thing in common about her. "Oh, how she lived." I hope I grow to be half the woman, the warrior, the light that she was to the world around her. I should be so lucky.
I remember some of the last words she spoke to me about her husband: "It's been 20 years, and I still miss him so much. I never thought I would be here this long, that I'd live to see 20 years without him. It must mean that the Lord still has something for me to do, and I know my Bill is up there cheering me on...I've always felt like I could do more than I believed I could because I knew he was up there watching me, and believing in me." I told her then how terrified I was of losing Peter, and living how she had these last two decades. That I didn't understand how she could be so brave. I said the only thing I really wanted from this life was to honor God and to grow very old with Peter. She sat quietly for a moment, thinking, and then said to me "I think you will. I bet that you will grow old together." And then she smiled at me with a knowing little look in her pretty eyes.
Yesterday there was a reunion in Heaven that she waited 20 long years for. I wish I could have seen it. When we learned in the morning that she was gone, that was the first thing I thought, "they're together again" and the joy I felt for her outweighed my sadness for me and the rest of her family. I know that she was more excited about seeing her Savior, than she was even about seeing her husband. Now she has both and I couldn't be happier for her, or more sad for us.
I know so little of her. In September when we were all in Minnesota, moving her out to Wyoming, we found an old photo album of her. Pictures of her as a little girl, a teen, a young woman. She came from a pretty wealthy family, I'm told, and her family was shocked when she decided to run away to India with a poor missionary boy. Then she further surprised everyone by having five children (I'm not sure if all were born in India or not, but Peter's mom was). She would be in the Punjab with five kids, while Bill would go on trips to the tribes that lived up away in the mountains. This woman was brave. She's seen Europe and Asia, pretty extensively and told me a funny story about getting lost in Italy, with no money when Bill was in the hospital there. She didn't even have enough to pay the doctors and get him out of the hospital so they could leave...and she laughed as she told me. It was an adventure, and they made it okay. After Bill died, she used to go visit her children in Indonesia, and make the trip all by herself, and stay for weeks at a time. She went to YWAM at about the age of 70, and learned to scuba dive. We teased her these last few months, because when we found her photo album, I learned something that shocked me about her. She was hot. Smoking hot. You couldn't even call her pretty, it would have been a sad understatement. She was stunning, beautiful, sexy even. She was a beautiful older woman, but as a girl in her 20's, she could have won contests, money, and no doubt, the heart of any man she'd have wanted. She laughed when I showed her the pictures and told her that I wish I could look like her, or at the very least have those gorgeous legs. I wonder what she looks like today, in Heaven. I wish I could see her up there.
I want to be like Grandma. Even though I've known her such a short time, I'm so sad that she's gone. I wanted my kids to meet her, to know her. To hear the way she told stories and laughed. We have a small book of her adventures in India with her family, and I'll treasure it always, and read it to my kids one day. Most of all though, I want to die the way she did. In a way that nobody who really knew her could mourn for her. We mourn for us. For the hole she'll leave in the lives of everyone who knew her. But every person I've spoken to, has said one thing in common about her. "Oh, how she lived." I hope I grow to be half the woman, the warrior, the light that she was to the world around her. I should be so lucky.
11:43 AM
(((HUGS)))
1:20 PM
Wow, Honey. That was a really great post. Thank you.
2:29 PM
That's amazing Melanie. I never got t know her as much as I wanted to either, but what I do know is that she was amazing. If only I could be a little bit like her. What you said about not mourning for her is totally right on. Wish we could see you guys, but we are thinking of you and we love you
7:59 PM
She sounds like such an amazing woman. I'm sorry for your loss, and it's too bad you didn't get a chance to know her better. I marvel at your apparent peace with the situation, and knowing that she's happy where she is. Reading this, I wish I could have met her.
1:18 AM
That was awesome, Melanie. She must have been wonderful. She has definitly left a great legacy and I can see you and Peter picking up where she and your grandfather left off. God bless you both as you say "See you later" to a very special lady in your life.
Love and prayers
7:36 AM
Do you know, I felt a little heavy-hearted reading this. I want to be like her when I grow old, but knowing that our life experiences mold us into who we are, I will probably grow old exactly the way my life experiences dictate.
I loved reading your post and pray God's comfort for you, Peter and all who will miss her, especially Peter's Mom.
12:09 PM
What a wonderful post. She sounds like a terrific lady. I am sorry to hear of the loss, but also know that she is happy where she has gone, and will live on in the memories that you have of her.
1:30 PM
Thanks everyone. I think one of the most important things she learned is that you can change your legacy, your destiny. You can be exactly who you're supposed to be and live that way. It doesn't come without sacrifice, but I think the thing I admire her most for was the sacrifices she made in life to be who she knew God was calling her to be. Don't be heavy-hearted Auntie Margaret...her God is exactly the same as yours too, and mine. I've felt like life has been doing that to me, dictating me, drawing me from what I want to be, what I'm called to be. I'm glad that she taught me that you don't have to stay like that, live like that. You're never as boxed in as you think you are.