Grandma, when I think of you, I think of everything sweet and savory—beef brisket, creamy potatoes, pumpkin ice cream pie, caramel corn, and Nuts & Bolts. My mouth waters even saying those words. I think of summer days, jumping on your neighbor’s trampoline and meandering through the park. I think of snow days with snow forts and wild sled rides down steep hills. I think of week-long family vacations that we kids loved and maybe the adults loved sometimes.
I never underestimated your quietness for not caring. Your care loaded the table down in delicious food, and your care pushed you out the door every morning to ensure that food filled other tables with Meals on Wheels. And in that constancy, I was safe.
And though I was too young to know your husband, my grandfather, before Alzheimer’s stole him away from us, your love for him was deep. He saw the gift of you while others only saw your shyness and quiet, and his love gave you confidence. I always loved that. I’ll forever remember ten years or so after his physical death when at Christmas, you choked up over his loss again.
Sitting on the carpet, watching you try to regain your composure, I thought to myself, “That’s the type of love I want.”
You are a woman of faithfulness. Your love for your family never tired.
You are a woman of gentleness. The neighborhood strays knew exactly which door was their meal ticket.
You are a woman of love. Your actions spoke so loudly as you served your family, church, and community.
You are a woman of sass. Your wry comebacks and quick wit had me giggling often these last few years. You were a great partner-in-crime for our afternoons together.
Grandma, I love how you created a space for your children to bring their children, whether it was to your home or a family vacation. Here, we loved, laughed, fought, and ran circles through your hallways. We play wrestled on your carpet and lay on the couches to stare at the twinkling Christmas tree. Here, we learned what it was to be a part of a bigger family with aunts, uncles, cousins.
Grandma, I don’t want you to go. I know that you delight to be with your husband again and all the family that has gone on before you, but I miss you here. I already miss sitting next to you while you work on a crossword puzzle.
My wonderful, Grandma Ruth, I don’t want to imagine my world without you. And so I won’t. While you may not be physically here anymore, you and your example of living will be a guide to my life. May your legacy of faithfulness live on in me.
See you soon.
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