Loss

A good friend of mine lost her grandmother yesterday, and I have been praying for her family nonstop since I heard the news. They know that she is in heaven now, but I still know how terrible it is to lose a grandparent.

I haven't lost many people close to me, and I realize that I am very fortunate for that. My kids have almost all of their great-grandparents on my side, and I love that they get to grow up knowing them.

The only one who is missing is my grandfather. He died almost seven years ago, when Miss Priss was a baby. He knew he was close to the end when she was born, and he would just hold her and study her little feet and hands like he was trying to memorize everything about her. I am so glad that she got that special time with him, even though she doesn't remember it.

Granddaddy died one summer evening with all of us around him; I didn't think that I wanted to be there when it happened, but now I am glad that I was there. He left this world surrounded by everyone he loved.

He died at 6:22, and I will never forget that. For years, I have felt that that time has haunted me. It comes during the time of the evening when I am trying to cook dinner, get the kids bathed and ready for bed, and I am constantly looking at the clock. I seem to always look at the clock at 6:22, and I have always wondered why I had to remember that awful time every day.

But recently, another thought occurred to me: instead of looking at 6:22 as a curse, why don't I think of it as a blessing? Because now, even seven years after his death, I still think of my Granddaddy almost every day. Instead of thinking of it as a time to forget, I decided to think of it as a time to remember.

I know that we all have our own ways of dealing with grief, and I pray for my friend and her family as they go through theirs. And I pray, that even when it has been seven years, they will think of Nanny often.