It was barely past midnight this morning when I felt the ground give way beneath my feet and the air I tried to breathe suffocate my airways as I heaved violent sobs in the dark of the night. Up until this point, she had always been there as a pillar and a safe place.
It was so early this morning, a horrible ending to one day and the devastating beginning of another.
It was ten years ago.
It feels like this morning.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
She waited until we all left and she breathed her final breath, and in the quiet of her hospital room, my grandma passed away.
I miss her still, every single day.
The ground has given way a few times since then, and still she is gone. Her arms aren't waiting for me in a loving embrace. Her ear isn't there to listen when I cry.
But she didn't leave me completely:
The prayers she must have prayed unceasingly have come to fruition, as I have God at my side, and Godly people in my life who can help stand in where she used to be.
I wonder though. I can't help but wonder.
Would she be proud? Would she think I'm extraordinary? Would she think I'm brave? Would she think I exhibit grace?
Somehow she's gone and her opinion still matters.
So much has happened in the 10 years since she was laid in the freezing cold ground as I crumbled in the wind. The ground is frozen again. But in a weird way, as I sit here missing her so, I feel comfort knowing she's safe inside the very ground I stand on, while residing up in the heavenlies with the Jesus she loved so much. Her love is written permanently on my wrist, her ring on my finger, her voice in my head, and her warm brown eyes staring up at me through my beautiful young daughter.
I ache. I pine. I cry. But I find rest, I find peace, finally, ten years later, realizing she's still so close by.
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