Monday, April 5, 2010

A Quiet Passing

There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more
There will be a day when the burdens of this place, will be no more,
we'll see Jesus face to face
~There Will Be a Day by Jeremy Camp (listen at

But in my mind’s eye I can see a place
Where Your glory fills every empty space.
All the cancer is gone,
Every mouth is fed,
And there’s no one left in the orphans’ bed.
Every lonely heart finds their one true love,
And there’s no more goodbye,
And no more not enough,
And there’s no more enemy. 

~Heaven is the Face by Steven Curtis Chapman (listen at 

On Easter Day, my grandmother rose to Heaven on the same day as her Lord and Savior.  I always knew she was as perfect as a human could be and apparently God agreed.  He shared the anniversary of His resurrection with her.  Really, what more could one ask for?

But, oh the grief!

There is so much to comfort me -- she died in her own home, she is free of pain, she was surrounded by her dearly loved, she went to Heaven with Jesus, she looked peaceful as she passed.

But, oh the sorrow in my heart!

There is so much to do to get ready for the funeral.  Then there are the children. Grieving with children is so much different than grieving in an adult world.  The kids know I am sad and in their own way, I know they are sad, too.  They don't really understand.  I don't have time to cry all day.  Life somehow seems to go on.  I still play Barbies and fix lunch and make sure they brush their teeth.  But then, I'll be in the middle of doing something and all of the sudden this guttural sound threatens to escape my mouth, my heart falls, and all I want is to wail.  She is not coming back.  I cannot call her.  I cannot hold her hand.  I cannot hear her tell me she loves me.  She will not call me to ask me what size the girls are wearing or to ask me what she should get at the grocery store before we arrive for our annual beach vacation.  She cannot answer anymore questions about her childhood.  Wait, what is her middle name?  What if I forget everything she has told me?  What if my kids forget her?

I know that everyone has to die.  I know she lived a full life.  I know she loved me fiercely.  I know that she knew I loved her and that I would have been by her side EVERY SINGLE DAY if I could have.  I know eventually all of these things will easy my pain, but right now everything just hurts.  I know I have much to be thankful for, but at times the loss is too overpowering to really feel thankful.

But, I do thank you.  Thank you for walking this journey with me.  Thank you for reading my posts.  Just knowing people are reading and listening means so much.  My friends and family have been invaluable.

I guess the pain isn't so overpowering that love can't get in.  Maybe that was Grannie's secret to being almost perfect. 

She always let love in.

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