Remembering Grandma Yoder

The thing about those that are "in life" (as Ella says) is that it is hard to think about/feel/remember what they used to be like, who they really are (not to say she ever lost the essence of who she was - she was always amazing). Grandma had been on hospice for a while, but her body was finally shutting down more and more. I spent Sunday in Oklahoma - a spontaneous trip because she told me over the phone, "I'd like to give you a hug, but I know that can't happen." Apparently, I like a challenge, so I left Kate, Ella and Jon with the rest of the Wiebes celebrating Christmas and drove down. I got to hug her and hold her hands and mostly just sit with her while she slept. She had not hidden the fact that she was ready to part with this world well before she was on hospice. Seeing her in pain and hallucinating was difficult, and I said a lot of prayers for God to let her time here end and her next stage begin.
   When my mother called yesterday morning to tell me she had passed, my first reaction was relief. She is finally free. It seemed fitting that I was laying on the floor with the girls pinning fabric together when she called. It also seemed fitting that I let the laundry sit unfolded and worked on my sewing projects instead. It wasn't until much later in the day when Jon was home taking care of the girls and I was looking at pictures of her that the initial relief and joy for her faded, and the memories flooded back in. I had been only remembering the "Grandma" of the last few days/weeks/months, and that is only a small part of who she was. I think I've been missing Grandma for a long time. It seems that with death, every memory gets to exist in the present and there is no "now" to override it. So, today I am just letting my self feel sad.

   Someone in small group once asked where each of our safe, special, feel-good places was and my answer (sort of a surprise to myself even) was sitting on vinyl swivel barstools in Grandma's kitchen with her and my mom early in the morning before everyone was awake. I have consciously missed that setting for a long time, but I haven't really grieved about it till now. (Mom, you might have to start waking up earlier again so we can build these memories with my girls.)
   I loved doing puzzles at her house. It was always some combination of Mom, Kari, Marlene, and cousins (possibly including an uncle to steal - or joke about stealing - the last piece.) They usually involved chocolate covered peanuts. And I have such a vivid memory of they way she would hold her upper arm when she reached across the table so it wouldn't stick to or knock off any pieces.
   If we weren't doing puzzles, we were probably playing Skip-Bo, Rummy Cube, or Rack-o. I made a comment once about deserving to win (or some similarly thoughtless remark) and she called me on it. No one deserves anything more than anyone else; it is all a gift from God. I feel like most people in my life, don't call me on things. To this day, I think about the word "deserve" and it's implications.
   Grandma taught me to quilt. (During one of her hallucinations on Sunday, I'm pretty sure she was trying to thread a needle. Just before that, I was holding her hands in the air not knowing what she was trying to do, and she said, "this is fun." Not much felt like fun that day, it that definitely was.) I feel honored to let her love for quilting live on, and I have fabric and pattern chosen for a baby quilt to donate to MCC.
  
  
I'll close with a short conversation Ella and I had after my mom called to share the news of Great Grandma Elsie's death.
Ella: Do you want another hug?
Me: I'll take as many as you have to give.
Ella: Ok. . . I only have two more.