I think I always knew my grandma was something special. As a kid, I’d spend weeks at a time at her house soaking up being the center of her world. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for me. That hasn’t changed. Now, there are just more of us that she orbits around, loving and caring for.
Except, now, her body is giving out on her. 92.5 years old and her body has said enough orbiting.
It’s been hard to watch. Two weeks ago, we were picking beans together.
Friday, we celebrated my oldest daughter’s ninth birthday. Wren and I had run to the store to pick up a last minute item for her birthday celebration and as we walked back to the car, she reached for my hand and I looked over and saw the tears in her eyes.
“I’m just so sad that Grandma is sick.”
I squeezed her hand tighter and offered another way we could look at things. We could think about how lucky we have been to have her for so long. “Most people at Grandma’s age don’t do what Grandma has been able to do. We’re so lucky she’s been so active and a big part of our lives. I never even met my great grandparents.”
By that point, we had reached the car and were unloading groceries into the trunk. Wren stopped and looked at me.
“I just feel like nine years isn’t long enough,” she said to me, tears filling her eyes again.
I pulled her to me. “Thirty eight doesn’t feel like enough either,” I said.
Tonight, I’m reminded what a gift sharing our slices of life can be. Instead of looking through old photos, I went through my posts to relive and remember. My Grandma is a treasure.