By Leigh Ann Thomas
My Memaw is in heaven this morning. She is no longer trapped in a body with a brain that has been slowly taken over by Alzheimer’s. The first thing I did after I heard was thank God for taking her home. It was what I’d been praying for. She left a body that was lying in bed, that didn’t know anyone or even how to chew, to walk the streets of gold with her Savior and be reunited with my Pawpaw.
Minutes later, I was overcome by grief. How could I be sad? But I was. I cried. I felt like I was going to throw up. I loved her and she loved me. I was hers and she was mine.
Memories started to flood my mind. She made the best banana pudding, fried apple pies, and chicken dumplings in the world. She loved her cats and her dachshund puppies. She was terrified of thunderstorms because she had lived through a tornado; her home was destroyed by one, but she and my Pawpaw were spared. She loved going to church. She loved doing for and giving to other people. She loved and supported my kids. She would come to preschool programs, dance recitals, ball games, church Christmas plays, and anything else that they were in.
We always had Christmas Eve breakfast at her house. She didn’t put up her Christmas tree until a few days before Christmas and left it up until New Year’s Day. I remember the look in her eyes when she was mad. She loved to play the banjo. She loved to quilt, and I have several quilts that she made. She taught me how to do it, but I don’t have the patience for it. She hated her middle name, Rachael.
I’m sad that she never knew that our son Sam was called to preach or that he ran for public office. I’m sad that she won’t get to come to Hannah’s wedding next year. I’m sad that she wasn’t able to come to Isaac’s graduation. I’m sad that Sara Kate didn’t get to know her like the other kids did. But I’m thankful that I got to have her for 48 years of my life. That’s at least 20 years more than I had any of my other grandparents. I’m glad that my kids got to have her for the years that they did.
The thing I’ll always remember most is the advice she gave me when I was pregnant with Sam. I was upset with someone and she said, “Honey, you just need to let that go. You being upset is not good for you or that baby. People are going to do stuff that they shouldn’t do, and you just have to not let it bother you.” At the time, I didn’t see the wisdom in that. I do now, not that I don’t still have a hard time with letting things go when I’ve been wronged, but I see that it’s better for me if I can. I think she knew that I would need to hear those words in my mind, again and again.
Meanwhile, time marches on. We’ll lay her to rest in a few days, beside my Pawpaw. We’ll say our final goodbyes and go on with life. But she will forever live on in our hearts and our memories. And thank God, one day we’ll see her again.
