This past week, I was given a precious gift.
The gift of time.
I was privileged to spend over two days with my grandmother, sitting and watching and listening and praying.
Sitting holding her hand as she slept.
Watching as my mother and my aunts cared for her with dignity, grace, and selfless love.
Listening to her precious voice, as we talked of heaven, of cooking, of caring for our families, of no more pain or sadness. Sharing our love for each other. And saying. . . . honestly. . . . I will miss you.
Praying. Prayers that God would ease her suffering. That He would bring her home soon. Prayers of thanksgiving for having this woman, this strong, amazing woman in my life.
In all likelihood, I was given the gift of seeing my grandmother one last time, and knowing it was the last time. The gift of saying all that was on my heart, and receiving her love in return.
It was hard, bitterly hard.