My grandma passed away.
I know what I should be feeling. Sad. Lost. Empty. When I go searching for the emotions I know are there all I find when I think of her is a numbness. As if my heart knows it has to take her passing in little bites or stop beating altogether. I just don’t know what to do with the knowledge she’s no longer there. I can’t remember a time that she wasn’t here and trying to wrap my brain around it is proving impossible. My heart’s desire is to mourn and my brain's biggest fear is to let it, this causes for poor sleep and groggy days.
My grandma died.
I thought of a lot of ways to write about this. I could write about how I am feeling but it can be summed up in one word ... Numb. That does not make for a good story nor is it one I want to write about and share with others. Then I thought about why my grandma would be so missed. These are my reasons, the way I remember. Others may have more or less but these are mine:
My grandma was the definition of a strong woman. She would speak her mind with her southern drawl and expect you to thank her for the opinion. She had a way when we were younger of demanding your attention and the absolute expectation she would get it. Happiest with my Papa beside her she could put on a family gathering with a buffet of everyone’s favorites and commanding what she needed her troops to do. No one questioned her authority and if anyone did my papa was quick to defend and demand respect for the love of his life. No one questioned.
She took great pride in every single person in her family. All of them deserving her praise and she would tell any that would listen of her prodigy’s latest accomplishments. She made me feel like I was a precious child and made me feel like my daughters were even more special then I suspected. I loved to call and tell her about the girls latest “doings” because she had a way of being in awe with confidence. She was always properly amazed at her wonderful great grandkids but knew they had the abilitly to be amazing. Her confidence in them was contagious.
As she grew older we would have long conversations about her great-grandaughters. She would share stories of when she was raising my mom, aunt and uncles, followed by stories of them raising their kids. It was her suggestion that led to Katie getting her first nibble of Peanut Butter toast around 6 months.
She made me feel precious. Initially amazing for being her granddaughter and later completing the awesome accomplishment of giving her 2 more great-granddaughters. She always knew I was capable of more then I thought and supported the choices I made for my life.
The tears are waiting to come. They haven’t yet but I know they will. I hope you have a small glimpse of the woman who was best known as Gigi in her final moments. I believe that she’s wrapped in my Papa’s arms with a reunion second only to the one with God himself. My greatest sadness is that my youngest will only know her through stories and not with the same excitement my oldest had at the mention of Gigi and that they have one less person that truly took joy in every step of their life.
I take comfort that Emily shares her middle name. Making me feel like a small piece of her will carry on. Now I can remember all the good, share the stories and hold onto the things she taught me. How to Love fully, to care for and raise your children with a firm but fair hand and how to truly appreciate the people God has blessed you with.
"Blessed are those that mourn, for they will be comforted" Matthew 5:4