Memorial

This post is in memory of my Gram. Her name is Hilda, and she would have been 79 today.

Gram fought a long battle with emphysema, brought on by her 50+ years of smoking. She never beat around the bush when it came to speaking her mind. And while this cost her many relationships, it was one of the things that endeared her to me. She swore like a sailor, but had a heart for as big as the universe for me & my kids.

Gram was my best friend, and my biggest supporter. This meant she actually would hold her tongue and let me mess up & learn a life lesson for myself. I don't ever remember hearing, "I told you so," and there was plenty of opportunity, let me tell you.

I spent her last 5 days in the hospital with her, only coming home to shower, change, and head back again. I was blessed to be able to pray with her, for her, and over her. I watched good & evil duke it out over her in the ICU room, and it made the hair on my neck stand up. I led her in the sinners prayer, while she was unresponsive, because I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance again. I can only hope she was hearing me, and calling on Jesus for herself.

Gram died a day later, in the very early morning hours, when the sun was peeking over the horizon. I was home in time to shower & dress for church. I suppose I was on auto-pilot. I don't remember anything else about that day, except getting a huge, crushing hug from Geri Duffy. Apparently I looked like I needed a hug, because I hadn't told a soul.

I could write an infinite number of posts about Gram, and I hope I can bring myself to someday. There was never a time that Gram wasn't intricately involved in my life, much to the chagrin of my parents, I'm sure.

Gram meant the world to me, and I still try to do things in such a way that would make her proud. I can still hear her saying, "be still, Tammy Lynn," during our shared naptime when I was a kid. I'd toss & turn, just about drive her nuts on the bed beside me, and she'd say that one short sentence. I'd fall right off to sleep, and wake later to the smell of her cooking dinner.

Those, and so many others, are such precious memories. I hope they never fade.

I miss you Gram.