She died. She passed away. She's gone. She is no longer with us. No matter the word used to describe it, the fact remains that she died four days shy of her 101st birthday. I sang happy birthday to a frail still small shadow if a woman I knew.
She made things. She spent the time to teach others to make things. I was taught many many times how to crochet, yet I could never catch the correct tension. I was about 13 years old when I stayed a week with my grandma. She made breakfast for me every morning. We sat quietly in recliners doing our crafts. She was crocheting and I was making friendship bracelets. I felt so empowered by her. She was old, but still full of life and energy and knowledge. She had lived through the wars, and the depression, and five children. One of which is a stubborn stubborn man I call dad. She had knowledge of things I had no concept. She was a farm, country, small town woman. I was an awkward city raised teen. Not sure of who I was really. I now know of the shell of a girl I had made into the me they all knew. She taught me to slow down, and relax. That the phone wasn't the ultimate idol. Relax may not be the right word here. She was calm about the things she did. Her actions were deliberate, straight forward and consistent. She was always doing something. Whether it was crocheting or cooking or teaching or mending or caring, always something.
She told me of the time the school called to ask her to substitute teach a class. She only had an eighth grade education, but the school asked her and she accepted. She substituted for a woman off for maternity leave. She stayed for the rest of the year.
Life was different with her. I felt like I could breath, I could be my awkward little self and she loved me for it. I wasn't weird for being creative. I wasn't being lazy because I was working on a craft project. I was useful and praised for the things I did.
I wish she would have come to my wedding. I missed her presence. I miss her presence even now. She was embarrassed by her age spots. I said she had earned each one rightfully.
She had been deteriorating for four years now, but it does actually grieve me that she is no longer on the earth. Why should this affect me? I don't know. God is sovereign over all of this. My actions should reflect His goodness and mercy, but instead I reflect a poor depressed lost soul. Lost in the forest and jungles of my own mind and emotions. God have mercy on me, I Am A Sinner.
Gone. She is gone. But He lives, ten thousand years and ForeverMore!
