God blessed her with me. He knew I needed her and she needed me. She was my grandma, my mother, my best friend… she was a wonderful example of love because she loved Christ. She belonged to Him.
I will never forget the moment the words “Mamaw didn’t make it”, echoed through the phone into my ear. My heart hit the wood floors and I hurried to find my phone. Confused and broken I called the ER and waited for someone to tell me I could see her. That she was okay. However, she was not okay, she was gone and already in the morgue. The chaplain told me I could see her but made sure I understood this wasn’t ideal. I had to see her, I had to know it was real. I needed to know she was gone. I put on the first pair of jeans I could find with my worn out Bob Marley t shirt and my eyes stung the entire drive to the hospital. The time between walking in and waiting and then going down seems like a blur right now but walking into room where her body was freshly pulled from the freezer is all too clear. She was pale, cold as ice and a drop of fluid sat in a perfect circle under her nose. I stood there and cried. My eyes swelled up, my head throbbed, but the tears wouldn’t stop. I told her I loved her, I apologized for not spending more time with her, I prayed in my head, I just couldn’t believe this was it. As I brushed her hair back with my hand, I knew I had to leave her. The little girl in me wanted to climb on the metal tray with her, just hold her and tell her all the things I never said. I flashed back to wanting to crawl into my moms casket as a small girl and my heart broke a little more. I kissed my fingertips and then placed them on her head, right as I started to walk away the drop of fluid under her nose ran across her cheek as if it was a tear. I walked out of that room feeling as if she said goodbye to me too.
I still can’t believe she’s gone. It’s been two weeks and I still pick up my phone to text or call her. I still pass her house and then my memory crushes me with the pain of remembering she’s not there anymore. I wanted to tell her about the house we are buying, about my first day of class… and I can’t. I no longer get the late night YouTube videos she sends or the good night texts at 2am. I can’t bring myself to delete her message thread. I think of her every time I close my eyes.
I will never walk into her home again and see her sitting in the kitchen chair with her favorite pink sweater hanging on the back, reading the Bible, turning towards me with that smile of pure joy and greeting me with nothing but love and pride. I will never eat her down home cooking again. She will never be able to pray over me like she always had. I will never be able to hug her again and smell her favorite perfume. She was home. I could be away for however long and when I walked into her home- I was home. And not because of the walls of that run down building but because she was inside those walls. Her heart, her love, her wisdom and just her in all she was- that was home. Home is not a house or an apartment or a fancy condo on a busy road. It’s the people who truly love you for all that you are and embrace you. It’s the people who cheer you on and are there no matter what.
My mamaw/momma, was the strongest woman I have ever met. God took both of my mothers from me. One I was blessed with for 6 years, the other for 35. Both loved me dearly, and I loved them. If I am ever half the woman my mamaw/momma was, I will count myself blessed in that department. I don’t know why this is my story, maybe I’m not meant to know. I do know one thing…
It’s not meaningless.
2 Corinthians 4:17 says our “light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory.” Every millisecond of your pain — from fallen nature or fallen man — every millisecond of your misery in the path of obedience is producing a peculiar glory you will get because of that suffering (Piper, John, 2018).
I can not see why- or what’s it doing- but this is the divine work of God almighty and I will get to see it in the end. My pain is real, my loss is real, the pain will remain, but in the end… all will be well.
My mother and my momma are both in heaven. Healed, made whole, pain free. How can I be mad at that?
I can’t.
Thank you God for giving them peace and healing.
(This was written a few weeks after passed… Lord, let the healing begin. ❤️)
P.R. Brooks 