A Different Kind of Graduation
Uncle Don put it best--Grandma Johnson graduated. And today she is laughing in heaven instead of hooked up to tubes and trapped in wheelchairs down here.
I'm a little delayed in blogging this entry, so I beg your patience with me. We were certainly not expecting the call from Mom and Dad when we got it June 11, and in the hours following it was a flurry of travel plans, leave of absence prep, and, of course, emotion. Most of you know how deeply I adore my Grams, and her sudden departure left a vacuum in me that was hard to express in words for a while. But then we got to go to Idaho and laugh big laughs and cry hard tears with the people who also loved her. I cannot express how cleansing it was to cry with my parents, my sisters, my grandpa. To look at old pictures and remember. To laugh--hard--at our millions of memories. The things that I would tell my Grams if she were still here are that she made way better BLT sandwiches than I can get at the cafeteria at my work, that I want to know what is in the Russian tea she made for me because my box of it is all crusty now, and that I need to know the best way to make shadow boxes, could she help me? All that to say that I was so lucky to be able to tell her how much I love her over and over. Not a bad way to end things, I guess.
Mom and I, between bouts of tears, talked about how easy it is to be sad because she was so wonderful and we miss her so, but also about how easy it is to smile through our tears because she was so wonderful and we have just the best memories. Even now I am laughing to myself over a picture I found tonight of Grams opening this random Christmas gift from Gramps--old scissors, scotch tape, staples--that we have yet to figure out and laughing until she almost turned inside out. There is also a picture of Casey, Jenny, and me laughing that is even more telling. No one could laugh like my Grams.
As we continue through this grieving/celebrating process, I am reminded how incredible God is that He can and does redeem us. That He desires to wash us clean and clothe us in holiness so that when we lose our breath in this world we can catch it in eternity with Him. I love that even though Grams, stuck in ICU, didn't get to say goodbye to Aunt RaVae, got to say hello to her forever two weeks ago. That seems like a lot to celebrate to me.
I'm a little delayed in blogging this entry, so I beg your patience with me. We were certainly not expecting the call from Mom and Dad when we got it June 11, and in the hours following it was a flurry of travel plans, leave of absence prep, and, of course, emotion. Most of you know how deeply I adore my Grams, and her sudden departure left a vacuum in me that was hard to express in words for a while. But then we got to go to Idaho and laugh big laughs and cry hard tears with the people who also loved her. I cannot express how cleansing it was to cry with my parents, my sisters, my grandpa. To look at old pictures and remember. To laugh--hard--at our millions of memories. The things that I would tell my Grams if she were still here are that she made way better BLT sandwiches than I can get at the cafeteria at my work, that I want to know what is in the Russian tea she made for me because my box of it is all crusty now, and that I need to know the best way to make shadow boxes, could she help me? All that to say that I was so lucky to be able to tell her how much I love her over and over. Not a bad way to end things, I guess.
Mom and I, between bouts of tears, talked about how easy it is to be sad because she was so wonderful and we miss her so, but also about how easy it is to smile through our tears because she was so wonderful and we have just the best memories. Even now I am laughing to myself over a picture I found tonight of Grams opening this random Christmas gift from Gramps--old scissors, scotch tape, staples--that we have yet to figure out and laughing until she almost turned inside out. There is also a picture of Casey, Jenny, and me laughing that is even more telling. No one could laugh like my Grams.
As we continue through this grieving/celebrating process, I am reminded how incredible God is that He can and does redeem us. That He desires to wash us clean and clothe us in holiness so that when we lose our breath in this world we can catch it in eternity with Him. I love that even though Grams, stuck in ICU, didn't get to say goodbye to Aunt RaVae, got to say hello to her forever two weeks ago. That seems like a lot to celebrate to me.
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3 comments:
What a great picture of your Grams! Thanks for sharing your wonderful memories.
Praying for you and your extended family - what a wonderful picture of your Grams.
J, thanks for sharing your experience of your grams' graduation... I felt deeply moved by everything you wrote. My most heartfelt condolences to you and your family.
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