Day 8: Grama Jean

A year ago I was working the kitchen day leading into Street Fair and I got a text message from my dad that my Grama had died. I was driving a 12 passenger van and had a student in the passenger seat that I had just met and was dropping off to volunteer for a kitchen set up. I don't talk on the phone and drive, ever. I apologized to the student and told him that I needed to make a call real quick. I called Jonathan and told him that I needed him to call my family and try to get ahold of someone on the phone to find out what was going on, that I think my Grama just died. I proceeded to drop this student off, explain the kitchen directions and hold myself together long enough to get back in the van alone. When I was driving to the same kitchen this weekend for set up, that wave of an emotion came back over me. I can't believe it has been a full year already.

I started to write a blog post about my Grama the week after she died. I got as far as 'I am in Fresno because' and couldn't finish. It still sits in my drafts. The same way this one probably would if I didn't have the commitment of my Journey to 30 documentation to keep me accountable in my vulnerability. I can't quite articulate how strong my emotions still are over the thought of her. I don't know if it would be any less difficult if I wasn't the only granddaughter, or if I wasn't named for her. Of course she always liked to tell everyone the story about me as a young girl learning and then sharing "that she was named after me." Or she liked to tell about how when I was young I ate at Marie Calendars with her and a friend and ordered croutons on my salad like I was a young adult.

When I actually became a young adult I had a newfound appreciation for my Grama and the study time she regularly spent learning about the historical context of the Bible. I would call her during my year of outlining the New Testament and another year of the Old Testament, talking about how I was learning new lenses to view stories I had grown up hearing. She was so proud of my NT/OT notebooks I remember bringing them home to show her and she didn't just flip through- she read each and every page.  When I went to grad school she followed me to Texas for graduation. When I had Heath she flew to Arkansas to meet him. When we moved to Virginia for J to study full time she always understood the challenges that brought and would share about how hard it was when my Grampa studied at college and she took care of the children.

My Grama had the gift of encouragement. She wrote at least one card a day- and kept a log yearly. When her grandkids started to move away to college she learned how to work a computer and got an email address. She sent me an email at least weekly, sometimes with just a quick quote from her 'Really Wooly' devotion. She prayed for me- and expected an update if I had given a request. Grama was relentless in her care for people and her love for God and the church.

Tonight I reread her eulogy I wrote. My heart is full with memories and yet still aches with a loss greater than I have ever felt.