Disclaimer: I had the perfect post about my great-grandma’s funeral and deleted it on accident. Here’s hoping I can remember any of it and I cry less the second time.
Nearly two weeks ago my great-grandma had a massive heart attack. A few days later, she passed in her nursing home.
She was ninety-four, and I hadn’t seen her since Easter.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m emotional. I cry at weddings, birthdays, move-in days, move-out days, and my grandma’s funeral was no exception. I leaned on my baby sister a lot that day.
I introduced myself to everyone at the visitation as “Vera’s great-granddaughter” because I was proud to be hers. I agreed with everyone who told me “she was a lovely lady” because I knew she was. I found solace in the service and let the sermon soak in because I knew it’s what she would’ve wanted. I sang “In the Garden” with all of my might because I knew she was listening. I made sure to eat two pieces of berry pie at the luncheon because she would’ve wanted one, too.
I’ll miss my grandma leaving lipstick on my cheek and having conversations with me and my cousins like there was nothing we could do to make her more proud. I’ll miss her telling me how much I look and sound like my mom. I’ll miss her never letting anyone else win a family game of dominoes. I’ll miss her handwriting in every birthday card and on the inside covers of all the “Love Inspired” Christian novels she read. I’ll miss her refusing to let me push her wheelchair because she “could do it herself.”
She was strong, stubborn, and the most kind person I’ve ever met. She was in church every Sunday and never wavered in her faith. She touched lives and knew how to fill a room with her smile, cooking, and grace. She led my family through thick and thin.
I pray to be half the woman she was.
taylorlarson 