recovery

     Three weeks ago I was given some of the worst news of my life. I had one of the best dreams ever and about her. We had soooo much fun. I woke up with her on my mind. I called my aunt to check up on her. My uncle answered. Everything was in slow motion as the words left his lips. At first, I thought he was speaking a different language; I refused to believe I understood perfectly what he just said: Grandma died last night. I couldn't talk. My knees buckled as I fell to the floor crying and screaming. What?! How?! Why?!  I couldn't talk, couldn't get up, couldn't open my eyes. I just sat there on the floor as the tears exited my eyes and snot my nose. 
     When I regained consciousness, my aunt told me it was for the better. Grandma had been suffering too much. To the point she was grimacing while in her coma, frowning. Months before we talked and she told me she was ready to give up. She told me she was tired. The only thing that gave her strength to fight was her children and grandchildren begging her to remain strong. 
     But not anymore. She went home to rest. All of her suffering is done now. I felt so selfish. I wanted her here on this earth with me, not realizing she had gone somewhere her pain and suffering was over. No more pain. No  more medications. No more nothing. Nothing but Jesus. She left to go be with her Lord. She was resting. These realizations ease my selfish wishes. 
    As I looked at her in her casket, I couldn't believe it. It's like I knew she was dead, but this was me coming to terms with the reality. I wrote her a letter and sent it to heaven with her. I know she's watching over me. She knows I love her. I am at peace and so is she.


RIP Grandma