My grandmother was transfered into hospice care and now we begin what will be our last days with her. I am fortunate to have not only the peace of my relationship with her but the peace of my relationship with Christ to be my comfort. Although we would all like to believe our loved ones will be those 100 year olds celebrated by Willard Scott as they continue to ride bikes and square dance, it is the normal course of life that our bodies are left behind at some point as we enter in to what our real lives are made of. Eternity.
I will admit to you that during these moments, especially so soon after my gramma's death, I find myself pausing to be sure that my life is well-lived. I do not want loved ones at my bedside wracked with pain or what-ifs. I will admit that three of my four grandparents had cancer. I will admit to rethinking the way I care for my body so that I am being properly responsible for what my life and death will mean to those who love me.
It is not the time now to share all the stories of my Grandma Trent. And let me tell you, there are some good ones! All of the stories are now the quiltwork of her life; wrapped around me to give me rest that in God, all things are complete. I am very sad. It comes upon me at unexpected moments. It is not her passing that overwhelms me but what it represents, the last of the stories. The open-ended way of life is quietly closing.
I made pilaf this week. For her as she lays in a hospital bed I made the food that she made to say, she lives in me. And in laughter and Christmas Eves and my son's Armenian hair and the voice that I will forever hear calling out to my husband, "There's my number one!"; she lives with me.
I am not sure if I am bowed with grief or with gratitude. I think they are intertwined. I know this, I am ready to carry on. The good things she poured out I have collected in my heart to pour out again.
And she will always live with me.
Very soon she will walk with Jesus. And here below I will take a breath and lift my head and continue my walk until it is my turn.
And someday make pilaf for my grandchildren. And she will live with them.
Psalm 4:8 I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.
In case you were wondering, Mahatma rice makes the best pilaf.
5 comments:
Truly... "To everything" there is a time and a season. I have walked this walk and my heart goes out to you. Yahwey will carry you through as He did me. My prayers are with you and yours.
Thank you for sharing the way that you did... very meaningful!
What a beautiful tribute to a dear grandmother. She has left her impression on you to pass on to your own dear children. Soon she will walk with Jesus and there will be now more tears.
(Now about that recipe ... how about sharing it?)
Beautifully expressed. Your grandma indded is a special lady loved by you all and the Lord. God is at her side.
Mahatma is an Indian and it means - a great soul". like Mahatma Gandhi
Amen...and may we each be made aware to live life well...this is our only opportunity.
here. praying. caring.
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