Here's the reality - my grandmother went to be with the Lord in June. Here's the other reality - some days I miss her more than others. My last reality - today is one of those days.Call me unfeeling or harsh, sometimes I don't think about my grandma. I have other things on the mind - work, relationships, books, TV, life in general. Other days, she is all I think about. I don't cry about the fact she's gone on a regular basis. She was ready to go. She's rejoicing in heaven. Laughing with the angels. Brightening everyone's day up there. She's no longer in pain, she's thriving, happy in the presence of her Savior.
But today I cried.
I cried because I would have seen her today. She'd come to this luncheon I'm attending in an hour. She's smile and kiss my cheek, comment on the clothes I was wearing or how my hair was fixed. She'd laugh. That laugh. That amazing laugh that when you hear it once, you hear it forever. It's the standard by which you judge all other laughs.
Grief, it comes in waves. One minute the sea is calm, reflective, serene. Then in an instant a wall of water towers above you. It's solid, cold, unfeeling. Then it crashes. You're under water, you can't see, breath. All you feel is a tumbled, wavering feeling in your stomach and your lungs yearn for the moment you can once again grasp for air.So many people around me are grieving. I work in a setting where the average age is 50. My colleagues have lost spouses, parents, children, friends. Even with the life after death we all yearn for, those left behind are just that ... LEFT.
I going to miss her again. Maybe tomorrow, I won't. Maybe this is the last time this week I'll think of her. I'll be preoccupied with myself, as we all are. But there will be another day. Another day I hear a laugh that isn't there. Smell her signature scent. Want to hug her, kiss her, watch a classic movie with her.
I'm so thankful for her. The woman of God she was. The grandmother she was, good and bad. I hope I never stop missing her.
