the closing of a chapter

Sometimes I like to think of life like a book. Except, all my chapters overlap. Yesterday, a chapter I've been living my whole life came to an end. My grandma died last night. She was the grandma who I thought would live for ever. And she did; well, she lived to 94. I didn't get to see her often, but I've looked up to what I interpret as a determined and strong-willed spirit in her. She made up her mind and that was what she did. She took care of herself after my grandpa passed away and looked after folks her age at the rest home. She lived independently until only a couple years ago.

My childhood memories go back to how much she loved being a grandma--so much that she handed us grandkids $1 bills at family reunions. Her T.V. never had real great reception, but her house provided a generous back yard for playing tag, firey tiger lilies that bloomed in the summer, a propane tank I always imagined being a big fat pig that sort of landed smack dab in the middle of the yard, and a creaky attic with all sorts of fantastic dolls, clothes and knick-knacks from the past (like my mom's old toys and dresses). I remember Dad, Matt, and I rolled the biggest snowball ever in her yard one winter. I played with paper dolls at her kitchen table and tasted Sioux Bee spun honey for the first time at her house.

With her passing, I've also been left grand-parentless. I've only ever known my grandmothers and hoped one day they would both be able to be at my wedding. But, some opportunities in life are not afforded to everyone. I feel a bit as if some wisdom I could have accessed and used later in life has walked away. But now my grandparents are wise beyond what our minds can comprehend. They are celebrating a far more great cause than any of my celebrations on earth. They have seen their Savior.