At 10 p.m. last night the phone rang. And I knew what it was. Danny paused the movie we were watching and answered the phone. I held my breath analyzing his side of the conversation. He seemed all business and yet solemn. But I knew.
Picture of Grandma lifted from my sister's blog post.
My grandma passed away. She was the only grandma I ever knew. I hadn't seen her since my grandpa's funeral in 1999.
- Grandma would insist on putting vitamin E on my mosquito bites. She told me the mosquitos loved my sweet blood.
- Grandma would take her dentures out for the grandkids' pure amusement. I'm fairly certain she never glued them in.
- When Grandma came to visit, she'd do our laundry for us.
- I remember being amused at how loud Grandma could snore.
- I love how she affectionately called Grandpa, "Daddy."
- Grandma and I wrote letters to each other from about the time I got married (almost 13 years ago) until about 2 1/2 years ago when I was pregnant with the twins and stopped writing so often. She wrote on a legal pad with a black sharpie most of the time. Sometimes it was blue. Once it was red. On occasion she'd include recipes or newspaper stories in the letters.
- Grandma would tell me during every phone call how proud she was that I married a return missionary.
Just a week and a half ago, Danny and I talked about getting a plane ticket for me to go see Grandma one more time. Grandma never met Danny or any of my kids. But since Peach and I are joined at the hip, and Peach-aged folk fly free to Hawaii, it would be the two of us. That was the plan.
But it was too late.
I know she's happy with Grandpa again. I know she can see and she can walk. I know that families are forever and I will see her again one day. To her, it may seem like a short while, to me perhaps a lifetime.