Melva Carolina Dreessen

A couple days ago, as we were eating supper, Momma brought up a topic that none of us have dared to bring up in a long time. Our great-grandma Dreessen. She passed away almost 3 years ago; she was one month shy of 100 years old. She died peacefully, and surrounded by her family.

It was a Wednesday night, basically my whole extended family was at Grandma's house. (If you know anything about the size my family, you know that there is A LOT of people.) Great-Grandma had her own separate wing of the house all to herself. We were all sitting around the room, her two sons (my grandpa and my great-uncle) and her daughter (my great-aunt) were sitting right next to her. They could see that she was struggling. She knew it was time, but she was waiting for the perfect moment. My grandpa looked up at her and said, "Mom, it's okay. You can let go. We're all here." And with that she passed moments later peacefully. I ran out of the room crying; my mom followed me and told me to take my siblings and all of my younger cousin down to the basement. I did. I have no idea what went on while we were down there, but soon enough Momma came down to tell us to load up in the truck. We had driven two separate vehicles, so Rudy rode with Dad  in the Vibe and the girls and I got in the truck with Momma. We were only 5 miles outside of Elkhorn when Momma looked at me and told me that Grandma and Grandpa wanted me to sing at the funeral. She said that Great-Grandma loved the sound of my voice and would give anything to hear it again. Momma said I could choose any arrangement of Amazing Grace that I wanted, so I chose "Amazing Grace: My Chains are Gone". After practicing a couple of times, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to do it by myself, so I asked my siblings to sing it with me. The funeral was held a week later in Pipestone Minnesota. After sitting through multiple speeches, including one spoken by Momma, it was our turn to sing. The piano started, but when my entrance came up, I was frozen. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Izzy started singing my solo and after catching my breath I was able to join her. The song sounded absolutely terrible: it's not easy to cry and sing at the same time. After the song I looked up to see that everyone in the congregation was crying. There was not a dry eye in the entire church. We took our seats and remained quiet through the rest of the service. As we were walking out, my grandpa came up to me, hugged me and said, "She heard you, Annastazia Caroline, I know she did. She loved the sound of children's voices." I lost it, I completely let go and started bawling like a baby. Neglecting all of my proper Girls of Grace training, I cried hysterically, revealing my emotions to everyone.

That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I don't regret doing it; I know it meant the world to my suffering family. I got so down on my self, thinking I was the most selfish brat in the world for feeling sorry for myself during that entire situation.

To clarify, my middle name was supposed to be the same as Great-Grandma's middle name, but when I was born, she was terribly confused and told my mother that her middle name was Caroline rather than what it really was, Carolina. Momma has wanted to change my middle name to Carolina for a long time, but I don't want her to. As much as I would love to carry the middle name of Carolina like my great-grandma, but there is something special about my family messing up my name. I want to remember that and keep it like that. When I have a daughter, I will probably incorporate Carolina somehow into her name, so that Melva's legacy will live on.