I can't believe that it has been eight months since my grand went to be with Jesus.
I miss her something awful and think of her everyday.
On days that my mind is working right, I grab the phone, dial 323393, and before I hit the last number
it finally dawns on me that she's not there. This especially happens when I'm working in my garden and I need advice.
I have this video that we took of her about a month before she passed. I used to torture myself and watch it over and over but for the last few months I've only hit play when i want to hear her sweet voice. It is a perfect capture of who she was. In the video she is talking to my youngest son. Out of nowhere she says a prayer (
this wasn't uncommon for her, she truly prayed without ceasing) for he and my older son and then whispers sweetest loving words to him.
"Dear Lord Jesus, send all your angels around my little boys. Watch over them, and when they go to bed put their guardian angels at the head of their bed and don't let anybody disturb their sleep. Thank God for another day because he was good, especially when your mom brings you here to see me. I love you i tell you, big big big big. Ooh beautiful face mijo, it reminds me of the little angels that I see in the magazines."
I.m not sure why this memory struck today but it did.
Its funny how thought progression works.
The morning after she passed we received a much needed down pour of rain. At the time I felt as though the whole world was feeling my pain and was crying with me. After that first day the clouds cleared and the sky was bright. Our family wanted a particular priest to preside over grands funeral service and he was out of town, so we had to wait nine days after her passing to hold the service. It was a hard, busy, and emotional nine days.
On the day of her funeral we woke up to pouring rain again. *You have to remember, California is in one of the worst draughts we have ever seen. The city was a mess, we forget quickly how to drive in the rain here. After the church service we drove to the cemetery. The rain was still coming down. At the end of the grave side service my mom pulled out two giant bouquets of calla lilies, (my grand grew them in her yard and they were prize winning) she handed one to each of her grandsons so they could put them on top of her *treasure box. As my mom handed out the lily the sky opened up, the clouds started to disperse and the sun shone brightly and the rain kept pouring down.
Liquid Sunshine.
It made me smile from ear to ear.
I let my umbrella fall to the side, i looked up, and let the rain soak into my face. It was glorious. If I were a little bit younger I would have started to twirl. But a twirling 33 year old, people might've though I'd lost my mind.
My grand was an avid gardener. among her lilies, camellias, nopales, and orange tress, she had over One Hundred roses bushes. She would always say, "It doesn't take much to tend a garden, all you need is a praying heart, a soft touch, sunshine, and rain."
I don't think it was a coincidence that we had all of the ingredients that day.
I had this little thought the morning after she passed that Grand entered heaven arm in arm with Christ. The golden highway was lined with everyone who went before her.
I bet my babies were the very first ones to greet her.
She prayed for each of them so much and for me when each was lost.
Her face, nothing but JOY, and even though she has always been so regal, she ate up her welcome doing her little shoulder shimmy while waving her little princess wave at them all.
It probably took hours no days for her to hug everyone who came to welcome her.
If you only met her once she counted you as a loved one.
This is probably a little heavy for a tuesday afternoon, but it sure does feel good to write it out and cry it out once in a while.
*treasure box:
When my youngest was three my husbands aunt, who was more like a grandparent to him passed. I had a lot of mixed feelings on taking our boys to her funeral. In the end we decided that death was a part of life and although it was a hard thing, we didn't want to shelter the boys from it completely. When things are sad, its okay to be sad. Grief is natural. Pretending it isn't there only hinders your healing.
(
again this is only our opinion)
When we walked into the church and my boy saw the casket, his eyes lit up and he said, Gogomou, (that's what they called her) got her very own treasure box?! When I go to heaven will I get a treasure box? It was precious and broke my heart into a million little piece.
