My mom and stepdad had the daunting job of packing up her apartment last month after she past. They sold what they could, and donated what they couldn't. My mom said on several occasions how hard it was for her and I could only imagine. The thought of going through a loved one's life and having to throw away items and give away others would be difficult.
My mom managed to pack up my grandmother's life into a few boxes and a suitcase.
And it seems so strange to me. That this is what's left of her. Some of her favorite books and a few canvas totes that she hadn't finished painting yet. There was a cutting board that she had painted that I wanted to have and a coffee mug she use to drink from. My mom kept some of her nicer china and other than some cookbooks and paintbrushes, there wasn't much else.
But really, I guess, that the 'stuff' in the boxes isn't really what's left of her. I have a lifetime of memories with her. I still can't think of her and not tear up, but I imagine that will eventually pass.
|A tote my grandmother never finished painting|
And I guess I'm writing about death these days because it just seems to be all around us. A wonderful woman from our church past away this weekend and my mother-in-law hasn't had the best of news lately regarding my father-in-law.
I think selfishly I wish that my grandmother was still here and that my father-in-law would just recover and the cancer would leave his body. I know in my head that my grandmother wouldn't want to be here on Earth anymore. She lived her life. And it was a good one. But now she's right where she needs to be.
And all this talk about death and sickness and Heaven has got me thinking. As if I haven't written enough about it numerous times before, but life IS short and there are no promises that tomorrow will be here.
And when I find myself complaining that our house is old and falling apart or that my beloved truck is still in the shop, or that my husband and sons left the toilet seat up AGAIN, I need to stop and remember that at least I'm still kicking. At least I have my health, and my kids and husband who loves me.
Life isn't always easy and it isn't always fun. And oh the irony in the fact that the older I get, the more I wish I was still a kid. But I'm hoping with my age (and wisdom?) that I am appreciating this life more and more. I'm trying to not sweat the small stuff and enjoy the big stuff.
And I'm thinking that I need to call Micah and apologize to him for being pissy last night. And the night before that.
So while I sit here on this cloudy afternoon with my three kiddies terrorizing the house, I find myself, in fact, being very thankful.
And I'd like to think that my grandmother is looking down on me from Heaven and smiling. Or maybe she's dancing. She did always love to dance.
Either way, she would want me to have a thankful heart.
~ Sarah ~