Eleven weeks ago everything was fine. Normal. Ordinary.
Ten weeks ago everything was not.
Ten weeks ago is when my grandma discovered she has cancer.
I remember getting the call and thinking, “What now?”
We didn’t know how long she would have or how serious it was. When the doctors told us she would probably be gone before Christmas, it was almost unbelievable.
You always think your grandmother will be there. You know she won’t. We all die eventually, but you always think you’ll have another Christmas. Another visit. Another picture of her holding your baby.
My brother and his wife are expecting their first baby. They will never have a picture like this. For moments like these, that are now lost forever, I mourn. For the end of her suffering, I rejoice.
The death of a believer in Christ is always such a bittersweet moment. We were happy that grandma was no longer in pain. No longer confined to a bed, constantly nauseated and tired. We were thrilled that she would once again be united with her husband who went to be with the Lord over 40 years ago (she still wrote their anniversary on her calendar every year). However, it’s so sad to know that we will no longer have those quiet moments, no longer hear her gentle laughter, no longer see her radiant smile. Not until we make our own ascent into heaven. Until then, Goodbye, Grandma. We love you so much.