In many ways, this past weekend gave me even more perspective to how amazing my grandmother was. I mean, I always knew was she was to me. But to see hundreds upon hundreds of people waiting hours in line at her visitation and hearing stories beyond comprehension about her life, what she did to help this or that person, how she handled herself and her family after Pop (my dad’s dad) died leaving her with a farm and 6 young kids, how she gave candy to not just her grandkids but other children who begged to be able to take something to her house just for a chance at her treats. The list went on and on.
I always knew what she was to me, but she became almost more royal after hearing that, while she treated me as a special granddaughter, she treated everyone as special people. I wished that everyone had had a chance to tell her those things while she was still living. In her humble spirit, I know she would’ve shrugged it off, saying that it’s just what you should do for others, that you treat people like you would want to be treated. But really, she should’ve known.
Last Thanksgiving, I wrote her a letter to tell her. I’m so glad I did. And even while I want to say that I want to be just like her, I know she would softly rebuke me for that and tell me not to be like her, but to be like Jesus. Because when it all boils down, Jesus was my grandmother’s rock. She mirrored her life after Him and that, above all, is why she left such an impact on just not her family, but on multitudes of friends, neighbors, and acquaintances. She touched everyone she met.
Here is the letter I wrote to her:
“Grandma, I’ll never forget the thrill of seeing your brown car pull into our driveway. I loved when you visited us. You always took time for me. You never came without cookies (your famous carrot cookies!) and you always had time to make me feel special. We had tea parties together where we made tiny pans of cinnamon rolls and drank Cool-Aid out of teeny little cups. We helped Mom in the kitchen with canning and freezing of all kinds of garden foods.
“Sometimes, on special days, I would get to sit with you in church, up near the front. You’d make little babies-in-a-cradle out of handkerchiefs and I’d carefully hold the ends and rock the cradle back and forth in the air. You’d make little mice too and I could pull the ends at the same time to make them disappear. You handkerchief tricks were magical. Your whole purse contained magic for a little girl in church. You had little tricky dogs that would stick together with magnets and a matchbox with a little doll inside. Those were the best Sundays.
“At your house, I mostly remember playing with Buddy, the doll. When I was really little, you wouldn’t let me play with him so I’d spend hours just looking at him. When I was older, you carefully trusted me with him and I was always so gentle because I knew he was a special doll. The Lite-Brite was a big hit for me too. You had a Cool-Whip container filled with those little colorful push-beads and when the last bead had been placed, it was a dramatic silence before we turned on the light to reveal the colorful picture we’d created.
“One of your favorite stories of me is one that I don’t even remember–I was very young–but I know it from hearing you tell it so often. Mom and Dad dropped me off at your house and I sat inside the door on the chair and refused to talk. You tried and tried to get me to talk, but I wasn’t having it. Finally, after much coaxing from you, I said, ‘Grandma, sometimes I just don’t feel like talking.’
“When I was a young teenager, my cousin, Bethany, and I had a sleepover at your house. You stayed up with us past 11 o’clock playing dominoes at the kitchen table. After you went to bed, we accidentally broke one of your kitchen glasses and felt to terribly guilty that we gingerly went to your bedroom door, knocked, and said, ‘Grandma?…’ We explained what happened and it didn’t phase you at all. In fact, you came out in your robe and just swept those glass pieces into the trash bin and said, ‘It was just a glass.’
“I look up to you in more ways than you’ll ever know. You are a strong woman, courageous and independent, with a fiery spirit and a little bit of sass. I have always loved that about you. You are a virtuous woman who always provided for your family even in hard times. Thank you, Grandma. I love you so much. -Emily”
My sister and I faced the challenge of writing the service tribute for her and both of us stared at the blank screen wondering where to start. This is what we came up with (along with the help of many other cousins) and our cousin, Delton, read this during the funeral service:
“To some of us she was mother, to others sister, cousin, neighbor, friend…but I knew her as grandma. She was the matriarch of our family, a woman of strength and courage and she drew us together like a magnet.
“She kept mason jars of jelly beans and circus peanuts on her kitchen counter, earning her the name “candy grandma”. She baked the best carrot cookies, and sheʼd make us heart shaped sugar cookies for our birthdays. Family get-togethers werenʼt complete without a taffy pull. She loved ice cream and we probably got our sweet tooth from her.
“Her strong will and determination were juxtaposed with her soft-spoken kindness and generous heart. She carried herself with grace and class, never complaining or raising her voice. She knew us and loved each of us, always with patience for our stories, surprise for our magic tricks, and an extra bed for a sleepover.
“She was a hard worker whether in her garden, the kitchen, or on the farm. She canned vegetable soup and made everything from scrubbies to sock monkeys. We each got a handmade quilt for our high school graduation.
“She was a woman of unwavering faith in God. Even when life dealt her a big blow with the death of her young husband, she never let bitterness overtake her. The pages of her Bible were worn soft from constant use and she was known as a woman of prayer. She was a model of godliness and fostered a Christian heritage–strength and guidance to our generation.
“Grandma mirrored the virtuous woman described in Proverbs 31. She always faced tomorrow with a smile. When she spoke she had something worthwhile to say, and she always said it kindly. She kept an eye on everyone in her household. Her children respect and bless her. Many women have done wonderful things, but you, Grandma, have surpassed them all.”
Now, days later, I think, “One week ago today, life was still normal.” Tonight, one week ago, was when I got the call that she had fallen. Less than 4 days later, her body was lowered into the ground next to my grandfather’s grave. I can only hope that with time the pain becomes a little less overwhelming. Tears still come at the most unannounced times and for seemingly no reason at all.
Her funeral was in the morning. That evening my siblings, nieces, and nephews all gathered at my parents house. It was special. We sat around the dinner table for hours. There was ice cream, reminiscing our own childhoods, wrestling in the living room, and my little brother tried to show off his strength by tormenting my sister. I wanted that night to last forever.
On our way home, I just kept thinking to myself, “When we have kids someday, they are going to know their grandparents. They are going to have memories and fun times and special treats. I know my dad will try to start feeding our babies ice cream before they’ve even hit 3 months and I don’t even care.” Because, as wonderful as my grandma was, my future children’s grandparents will be just as amazing and I don’t want them to miss out on a minute of being part of each other’s lives.
My grandma is survived by 5 children, 18 grandchildren, and 24 great-grandchildren. That’s a whole lot of family who have been touched by this beautiful woman. In her wonderful way, she loved us each individually and uniquely. I’m borrowing from my sister, Carla’s, blog with The Parable of Immortality by Henry van Dyke. I feel peace not when saying, “There she goes”, but when I read the ending and know that there were a host of angels welcoming her last Thursday, saying, “Here she comes!”
Grandma, you know I love you. I know you loved me too. You know I’ll always miss you, but please don’t miss me. I’ll see you again. I look forward to that. And, Grandma, since Denise and Blake never got to know you like the rest of us did, will you please take care of them now? They’ve already got acquainted with Grandpa, but now I’m so glad that they get to meet you too. I’ll see you again, Candy Grandma, and in the meantime, I’ll always love you and remember you as the woman of God who I aspire to be.
I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch
until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says, ‘There she goes!’
Gone where? Gone from my sight – that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
‘There she goes!’,
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout:
‘Here she comes!’
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