April 3. Easter Sunday.
Two years ago, they fell on the same day, the day my grandmother finally surrendered, leaving all she had done in this world behind, and went to Heaven to be with Jesus.
I thought it was nice of Him to share His day with her.
I am blessed that I was able to spend 32 years of my life with her. I am blessed that our relationship was not impacted by the miles that physically separated us. I am blessed that I can still hear her voice and when all elements line up together, I can still smell her scent.
I am blessed that I get to overhear my youngest tell her friend in a random conversation that her great-grandmother made the best monkey bread. Then, a few days later, I am blessed again when I hear her telling her friend that her great-grandmother, even though she is no longer alive, can still see her. Then I get to chuckle to myself as she explains to her friend that God gives her special glasses that enable her to see through the invisible wall that separates our worlds.
Last night, I got to see her in my dream. Such a rare treat, but I think God must know that I'm really missing her as I prepare myself for His resurrection. Holy Week two years ago, I grieved in anticipation of her death from cancer alongside of preparing to envision my Savior on His cross.
Hearing the Passion on Sunday and remembering the thin skin that clung to her bones, I repeat to myself that death really stinks. And I start to get in a funk, I begin to get sad, and I start making monkey bread in her memory. And this week, I don't wash away the return of grief. I let myself miss her freely. I breath in the memories. I look at old pictures. I answer the hard questions that crop up from my daughter every year, "Why did she have to die?" I write on my blog the same things I've written for the last two years about her, but sometimes I just need another catharsis.
But on Sunday, I'll raise my hands in praise because my Savior has risen and this act of dying on the cross and rising again means that my grannie is in Heaven. She is free from cancer, from hurt, from the burdens this world heaped upon her back.
Death still stinks, but Jesus has overcome death. And so, I praise Him.
If you so desire, you can scroll down memory lane with me...