After 96 years of being her delightful self, my Grambie passed away on Saturday. I had the chance to say goodbye over the phone, though she wasn’t responsive. It was her time, no doubt about it, but despite all the mental prep it hit hard. I leave in the morning to go celebrate and remember her with my family, and I’m looking forward to spending time with them despite the reason.
Sunday morning I woke up feeling like someone had chopped 6 inches off the legs of my chair. You know that feeling when you go to sit down and the seat is a bit lower than you expected, and you kind of thump into it? That’s how it felt. She’s always been there, always been a rock, always been completely herself. Part of my foundation just left, and it will take awhile to settle it all out. I’m thankful for having so long with her, and that my boys got to know her well enough to love her.
She taught me fierce love, among many other things, and I’m glad for that.
Love that woman, and I will carry her torch with gladness.