I just received a call from my dad that I was anticipating. My grandmother has passed away. I’m truly okay with this. We visited her on Saturday, and she was clearly dying. I laid Justin beside her and he started to scream. I said to a family member that she could probably tell who it was, and Grandma smiled and said, “Justin”. She didn’t have any energy to talk, but she could hear us and would smile from time to time.
She had a long and blessed life, or as she told me a week ago, “The Lord has given me many blessings”. Her faith was strong and in the end it provided her comfort. She knew she was going to heaven, and she will join her husband who died 18 years ago.
She was an amazing woman, but I was often frustrated with her and would often get angry with the things she said. However, I did have time two weeks ago to tell her how much she meant to me, how much I appreciated her, and to hear what she had to say to me. That was our goodbye, not Saturday. When I think of her, I think of the vibrant, determined woman that she was. She lived longer than anyone anticipated (only 20% of her heart was functioning in the last year as well as numerous other medical problems).
I’m glad that she was able to pass on quietly and without pain. And I’m happy that she finally felt that she could let go.