the old rugged cross
My grandmother passed away earlier this afternoon.
She was the best grandmother anyone could ever have. We lived with her for a time, when my mom was single and life was hard, and then later on, after my grandfather had passed away and her health began it’s long slow decline, she lived with us, when my brother was in high school and I was in college.
She was always proud of us. Somehow, even when we didn’t know it, my brother and I, my grandmother was sure we’d come out okay. She trusted in us, she believed in us, she was always unremittingly kind — she was the nicest person anyone who knew her ever knew. She was smart and she was fun, and the world feels ten sizes too small for her passing. I know, because it’s squeezing my heart in two.
I’m no longer particularly religious, but she was, it was one of her life’s greatest joys. The last time I saw her I was with my mom, and we wheeled her up to the piano, and my mom played the old hymns, and I sang, and my grandmother, who Alzheimer’s had robbed of speech long ago, beat one contracted hand in time with the words. She was so happy just to be there with us, like old times, again.
I love you grandma. I will miss you fiercely. Thank you for always believing in what I could become.