grandma

I feel so strange. She is no longer here, no longer alive. I can’t pick up the phone and call her. I can’t go to Michigan and see her. She’s gone. No more 10 hour roadtrips with pit stops in Ohio for Panera and sodas. No more sleeping under the stairs and fighting Hannah to turn off the night light because I can’t sleep with it on. No more Christmas cookie tins. No more swimming in the pool in the summers. No more Lexy. No more “Michigan Dad”. No more fresh bread and chili and pasta with meat sauce. And it was the BEST bread. No more purple bathroom and coffee from the Keurig we had to reset with the smallest button in the world.

No more of her. Her smell. Her voice. Her making fun of Scotty. Dad convincing her he was the favorite. It’s all gone but mostly her. Her artistic vision. Her watercolors and artwork and crochet and quilts live on.

I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye. Not from here. And not even to say goodbye but to have my dad call me because he’s lost another person and tell his youngest daughter her grandma is gone.

Gone from this beautiful earth to an even more beautiful heaven.

Where she can laugh and walk and dance and swim and ride horses and bake and cook and paint and quilt and crochet and be with Grandpa and dogs — all of her many many dogs — for all of eternity. And most importantly be with the One who calls her His. The One who created her. The One who redeemed her and calls her worthy. The One who loves her. She gets to dance in His presence now and forevermore. Though I miss her, I will see her again in our home with our everlasting Father.

“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5b