Character
is who you are when nobody is looking….
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| Virginia “Ginny” Grove, with son, Sean. |
The Celebration of Life ceremony for Virginia “Ginny” Grove was held on Saturday, September 26, 2015. Knowing how deeply Ginny felt about Native American spirituality, I wondered how well that might be honored in a service officiated by a Roman Catholic priest, and held in the cafeteria at the Catholic school where finished out her teaching career.
Before the service began, my sister, showed me a reading she had asked Ginny’s son to share. He said he was not emotionally able to do that. My sister understood—herself unable to hold back the emotion to read. As the service began, the paper with the treasured prayer was folded up, and placed back in her purse.
The priest really did know Ginny! That was such a relief. I loved hearing him read the sacred texts related to nature. Ginny taught science, but, more than that, as the priest said, “Ginny taught LIFE.”
Ginny was (IMHO) way too young to die, but I knew she had had a major heart attack many years ago. Following the heart attack, she experienced severe anxiety and was sometimes afraid to stay alone at night. I remember leaving our back door unlocked each night, so Ginny could let herself in at any time if she needed to. Some mornings, she would be curled up comfortably on the family room sofa when we woke up.
Her coworkers spoke of Ginny’s integrity, creativity, and passion for inspiring students. Many giggles were sprinkle throughout the room when her leaf collection requirement was mentioned! Wonderful words of praise were shared, including a note from a former student, unable to attend. It is very different to teach a class than to inspire a life. Ginny inspired. She was one of our daughter’s teachers in middle school, and Ginny was the flow into my life of several dear friends (best called soul mates).
One teacher who spoke—another passionate cat lover—had been mentored by Ginny. It almost took my breath away when she closed her sharing with the poem my sister had brought hoping it would be read! It was perfect that it was shared by another teacher, one blessed to be nurtured by Ginny. Authorship is not conclusive, but it is often referred to as Native American. It may have come from such an oral tradition, but was likely written by Mary Elizabeth Frye. Regardless of the source, it is a source of comfort for Ginny’s friends and family, and a beautiful tribute to Ginny.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
In 2001, I had the privilege of officiating at Ginny’s wedding. Ginny made bouquets of feathers—Turkey, Bluejay, Crow, and she chose to say her vows on the Pier, where the Saint Joseph river was flowing freely into the waters of Lake Michigan.
Ginny chose this Sioux Prayer:
O our Father, the Sky, hear us,
And make us strong.
O our Mother the Earth, hear us,
And give us support.
O Spirit of the East,
Send us your Wisdom.
O Spirit of the South,
May we tread your path of life.
O Spirit of the West,
May we always be ready for the long journey.
O Spirit of the North,
Purify us with your cleansing winds.
Ginny’s son has created a scholarship in her name. What a thoughtful action. Recipients will be from the three schools Ginny blessed during her career as an educator. Ginny’s body has been donated to the science she loved.
Ginny has made the long journey, but Ginny’s legacy lives on. Aho.
