Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni’s Tribute

Some of my earliest memories of my grandma Gaye took place at her and my papa’s townhouse in Emerald Green. I remember everything about that home – the floorplan, the furniture, the bumper pool table, the bread dough rising on the counter, the flower-strewn patio overlooking the river. That home was one of my favorite places on earth. On one visit in particular, I remember a duckling. In my child’s eye, the story went like this:

It was early spring. My grandma relished spring. An absolutely avid nature lover, my grandma, this particular spring, was keeping close tabs on a duck who had chosen to make a nest in a bush outside her door. Soon the ducklings hatched and a few days later the mama duck led her brood in a little parade to the river. All but one. For hours my grandma fretted and fussed over this duckling that had been left behind. Night was falling. The temperature was dropping. So Gaye did what only my incredibly loving and compassionate grandma would do. She slipped outside, gathered the duckling into her nightgown and took it into bed with her. (Now, I am sure many of you are wondering where my papa is in this story, as it would be hard to imagine him agreeing to a duck in his bed. But this is my memory.)

I tell you this story because for me it creates a tiny picture of what my grandma’s love was like. She didn’t think twice about showering it. She didn’t worry that she would love one too much and another not enough. She didn’t care what the neighbors thought – because she loved them, too. She never grew tired and weary. She just loved. Big love.

Her husband knew it. Her siblings knew it. Her children knew it. Her YFC family knew it. Her church family knew it. Her friends knew it. Her neighbors knew it. Many times, even strangers – and ducklings – knew it. But, best of all, for me, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren knew the fullness of her love.

In all my life, I will never forget listening in week after week while Gaye taught my son Liam (number 18 of 27 great-grandchildren) his ABC Bible verses. Often with tears in my eyes, I would sit in the other room and listen to her tell my son, in the most tender voice imaginable, “I’m so proud of you.” “It’s great.” “What a good job you’re doing.” And, as though it burst right from her heart, “I love you, honey.”

The day she passed away, I walked Liam to Kindergarten and asked him if he understood what it meant that Gaye had died. Quite matter-of-factly he told me that Gaye was very old and her body was very tired and she had gone to heaven. “Don’t worry, mom,” this five year old said. “She is so happy to see Jesus, and Jesus is so happy to see her.”

This statement from my son has made me wonder how often Jesus welcomes someone home who loves like our Gaye did. We are sad, so sad, to lose the woman who loved us each so tenderly, so individually and so completely. But like Liam said, we can be sure that she is so happy to see Jesus, and Jesus is so happy to see her.

- Amy (Wolgemuth) Bordoni, Granddaughter
Friday, March 26, 2010