You Are Unique

We were visited by sadness again last week, as Clair's grandmother Hazel passed away last Friday. This came only two weeks after the death of her husband. She was 95.

It's not my intention for this to be the most depressing blog on the internet. Sometimes, that's just how it works out. The saying goes that God does not give us more than we handle, but one has to wonder what gave God the idea that the Clairmont family should have to handle so much.

As was true of Clair's grandfather, I did not get to see Hazel Clairmont at the peak of her powers. Evidently, she was very much the driving force in the family. If she said the grandkids were going to put on a Christmas pageant, then by gum, they were. (It seems there were minor skirmishes over who would get to be Mary and who would have to be a shepherd.) I got a small taste of this a few years ago, when we visited Alexandria at Christmastime, and Hazel instructed us to lead off the caroling. Well, we certainly weren't going to say no.

She lost her eyesight about six years ago, which was surely a major blow to someone who prided herself on being in charge. But to the extent that it bothered her, she was determined not to let it show. Clair tells me that she could still remember exactly where everything in her house was, far better than people whose eyesight was as strong as ever. Indeed, next to her chair in her apartment, she had a tray that was divided into many compartments, and each compartment had a very specific purpose. (Several of them had candy. A little bit of a sweet tooth.) In a way, her meticulous mind was well-suited to her failing vision. Being very organized came naturally to her.

My favorite moment with Hazel goes back to that blessing ceremony. Actually, the lunch afterwords. We went to this fancy country club outside Alexandria called Arrowwood, and the restaurant looked out over a lake. The colors were remarkable that day; a mix of yellow and red and gray, and the reflection of the clouds off the lake was very striking. Several people commented on it, but I could tell that Hazel wasn't getting enough information to understand it. She knew Arrowwood. She'd been there plenty of times. But she had no perspective. So, when a break came in the conversation, I spoke up and began to describe her surroundings to her. I explained how the fireplace was behind her, and the kitchen was ahead. I told her how the windows were off to her left, and I did my best to describe the unusual sky. If my journalism degree was going to be worth a penny, I was going to capture this moment in great detail.

Hazel perked up, and she seemed to be able to picture the scene. Except for having our marriage blessed, it was my proudest moment of the day.

Hazel was a schoolteacher, and in his outstanding eulogy, Clair's father read aloud a sort of poem-credo that she wrote for her grandchildren. It was very inspiring, precisely the kind of thing that a good teacher would prepare for her students. It was titled, "You Are Unique". And any woman who would strive to convey that message to her family is a remarkable woman indeed.

Hazel Clairmont