"Death is a part of life."
I'm not sure how many times I have heard the above statement in my life, but it never seems to make me instantly wipe away my tears and say, "oh, yea, well I guess I should just get on with mine then."
Death may very well be a part of life, but it's usually not a happy part or a part most people enjoy discussing. And it's definitely not a part of life that we welcome into our lives and extend an invitation to, allowing it to take one of our beloved away. However, death is inevitable, and it has once again stolen a piece of my heart.
On the ninth month angelversary of our son, my sweet grandmother left this world and made her way (without a doubt) through those pearly gates of Heaven.
Now I can already hear the thoughts coming through the screen at me about how it is a different type loss because she was "old" and had lived a good life. I will give you that...she lived on this earth for 70 amazing years; 70 years in which she touched countless lives. But my heart still hurts, and my human soul still yearns to hear her voice. She was a woman of tremendous strength, faith, hope, love, and compassion. She was my "person". You know what I'm talking about if you're lucky enough to have been blessed with a "person." She never doubted me in all of my 27 short years of life thus far. She always poured her wisdom into my life in the most inconspicuous of ways. She was my one-stop-shop for questions that ranged from cooking to religion. She constantly stood as a beacon of hope and love for our family, especially for ME in the last nine months. And now it's up to me not to let her years of influence drift away with my grieve...my grandma's hard work and love WILL shine through.
My grandma was the last person to hold our precious Wyatt's body on this earth, and the first of us to hold him in the kingdom of Heaven. What an angelversary celebration that must've been. You see, just a few days before she passed she made it known to all of the family that we should be jealous of her. With confused looks on our faces, she continued to explain that she was closer than any of us to seeing Wyatt again...and she smiled. Through all of my tears, I am trying to find comfort in her words. I am forced, once again, to try and find the sunshine through the clouds and I am starting to do so by imagining her, pain free, rocking my sweet boy in her strong arms as the angels sing her favorite hymns.
This world lost a remarkable woman, but Heaven gained a saint, and my little boy now gets to experience her love in all it's glory.
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