Hiatus

Life is hard sometimes.

July was a really tough month for me and my family.

Things will never be the same.

I'm not sure if I'm still in the denial phase or if this feeling that she is still with me bears some truth.

It's hard to collect my thoughts so they make sense for others.

So I haven't written.

Well that changes now I guess.

On July 8, just a few days after we were told my grandmother, the Erma this blog and my Etsy shop are named for, had about 6 month to live, she passed away.  My siblings, my mom, and I were all at her side.  We were called in after she basically passed out because of being short of breath.  She never woke up.  My gut says that once she saw that door to heaven was open for her, she ran for it.  As much as we love her, I tried to understand the reasons she was ready to go.  She grew up in a family with 9 children, only she and my Aunt Alice were left.  Her only child, my father, had passed on 13 years before.  It must be tough when more of the people you love reside in heaven than here on Earth.  And so she went.

The most beautiful thing about her passing is that there was nothing left undone or unsaid.  Sure her leftover coffee was still in the pot, but those who were dear to her knew where they stood.  In some ways, the words "I love you" didn't even need to be uttered.

I am so thankful for the innumerable precious memories I have of her.  It was amazing to see her love my son.  She played with him every time she saw him, which was almost every weekday while I worked.  Without directly instructing, she taught me so much about mothering a little boy.  She taught me so much, cooking, crocheting, knitting, and so much more.  I thought often of those times when I was holding onto her hand at the hospital wishing for a miracle while I knew she was praying to go home.

There's a saying, "A home is a house with a heart in it." Well she was our heart.  Every holiday was celebrated at her house.  There was always a delicious meal featuring everyone's favorites prepared with love.  When my dad passed away she helped my mom keep everything together.  She made a promise to my dad that she would take care of us if anything happened to him, and boy did she keep it.

I asked her to give my little Alex kisses from me in heaven.  I believe she is sharing her sweet love with Alex just like she did with Joshua.  Oh, how I wish Joshua would be able to remember that love.

Our family will never be the same.  But we are better for having had her for 87 wonderful years.

It wasn't my intention to write so much.

On the same day we got the prognosis about my grandmother, my husband got a call from his dad in Arizona.  His mom had terminal colon cancer that had spread to her liver.  She had 5 months to lives.

The stories intersect, because the next day I went to visit my grandma and told her about the news we'd received.  I told her I can accept it and I know she (Erma) had a good life and she was ready, but I couldn't control the tears revealing how burdened I was with both of those sets of bad news.  So she did what she always did.  She took my hands and prayed that God would give me strength to get through  the difficult times ahead.  While my faith has wavered at times, there is no denying the presence of God when holding hands and praying with my grandma.  And now when I think on it, I remember that Erma means strong (my grandma has told me that many times). I feel perhaps, I was given a piece of her to help me through

  Doug immediately requested time off from work as soon as they could fit it in the schedule so we could go down and spend time with his mom.  She wanted to see Joshua before she passed.

She did not get her wish.  On July 19, my mother in law passed away in a terrible fashion that I would not wish on my worst enemy.  As mother in laws go, I cannot complain.  We made the long journey (which is an unfortunate story for another day) to Arizona with our soon to be two year old for yet another funeral.  We were there for 2 weeks

And so I haven't written.  Now that changes.  Life is for the living.  We must go on.

Holding on to Erma