A Glorious Sendoff

If ever anyone deserved—and received—a glorious sendoff, it was Louise (Grammy) Wiberg. I was privileged to be present at her memorial and in the presence of her family last weekend.

I wish I'd had more time to get to know Grammy. At 89 she left us much too soon. She had a gentle yet strong persona that enveloped all around her.

She headed a large and loving family. When my daughter, Farida, married Louise's grandson, Jason, Louise drew the rest of the Hussain family into the extended Wiberg/Wilks clan. I spent a number of Thanksgivings and Christmases with her and her husband, Harold (O'Dad). To Louise and Harold, we were never strangers. We felt completely welcomed—and loved. We were as much family as Harold and Louise's own children, Spike, Hal and Tom, and their children.

Even though Louise and Harold embraced us wholeheartedly, I'm sad I didn't get to know Grammy better. After all, I thought we had many more holidays with her. When it suddenly became clear that those years were not in the cards, it was much too late. For the memorial, Louise's son, Tom, composed a letter shared with those gathered in the sanctuary. In it, he wrote that there were only eleven days between her diagnosis and her passing. At that statement those in attendance gasped; none of us realized she'd gone so quickly.

That was not the only surprise revealed during the service. A young man—now probably in his forties—spoke eloquently about his connection with Louise. He explained how she'd taken him in when he was only 17, cared for him, counseled him, supported him, gave him employment and led him to the Lord. The surprise was not that she had done so, but that none of her grandsons had ever heard the story. She and Harold lived what they believed, but they felt no need to brag, or even talk, about their actions.

Many others came to pay their respects to Louise, so many that the church found it necessary to move the after-service reception from the smaller room originally assigned to the fellowship hall to accommodate us all. Louise was loved, and she will be remembered.

In the company of my two daughters, my son-in-law, Jason, and my grandson, I spent the day before Grammy's memorial at Spike and Bob's home. What might have become a time of tears and sorrow became an amazing example of joy and remembrance. Yes, several times tears sprang to our eyes, but there was far more laughter as the grandsons and great-grandsons splashed on the slip'n'slide.

I felt particularly blessed to spend time in conversation with O'Dad, during which he told me stories of his life with Louise and shared with me memories of the more than two years they lived in Mexico City and Querétaro, two places dear to my heart. I also found out that he'd worked for the same company as my mother, although, years apart, their paths couldn't have crossed. As we sat, a flocks of hummingbirds swooped out of pepper trees behind the house to swarm the feeders above our heads.

The family that gathered around the table that evening was bound by love as much as by blood. Four generations shared the love and light of the woman who had been wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, great-aunt and friend to all of us.

Read Louise Wiberg's Obituary in the Orange County Register.