A Grandmother’s Love

I believe that there comes a point in every life where there is, if only for a fleeting moment, a sense of completeness.  For me it came as I stood by my grandmother’s hospital bed, holding her hand as she left this world and went on to the next.

The profoundness of birth and death give definition to our lives, which seem otherwise often to be just so many ordinary days strung together like a sentence and punctuated by a few very high and low moments.

There was something inexplicable that occurred in me as I pondered the birth of my children, grasping their tiny new hands as I first held them, and holding my grandmother’s worn and wrinkled hand as I relinquished her back to the Lord.  There was a profound completeness in that moment.  I had not lost my grandmother, only released her.  Her death was far from a trauma, on the contrary it was a comfort.

Her dying bore tangible evidence to those things which she had taught me since my earliest memories.  Death is not an end but really a beginning; an experience not to be feared but to await expectantly.  As I stood holding her hand as she took the hand of God, loss was not my experience, rather it was incredible gain.  Of all the things she had taught me about life, now I had the privilege to learn from her about the mystery of dying.  If I had ever had any doubt as to how, or if, the Lord comes to meet us when we die, it was dispelled at that bedside.

As she left this life for the next, sadness was not my first emotion, it was immense gratitude. Gratitude for the life of this woman who had managed to make each of her grandchildren think they were her favorite.  She never actually said that to any of us.  She didn’t have to, we each just knew instinctively that she loved us the best.  I don’t recall ever coming into a room where she was that her face didn’t light up in delight at seeing me.  That is an invaluable gift to give a child, to know that he or she is always a total delight to someone.  She always stopped whatever she was doing to greet me and give me a warm embrace.  If I had lived across the country and saw her a few times a year as some of my cousins did, or even across town and saw her a few times a month as my other cousin, that kind of reception would have been a special, but more understandable welcome.  But we lived in the same house, so she gave me and my brothers that kind of greeting several times a day!

Now I assure you it was not because we were always such delightful, remarkable children.  It was truly because she was such a delightful, remarkable grandmother.  Now that I am a grandmother myself, I have an even greater appreciation for the love she gave me, the patience she showed me, and the joy she expressed in my presence.  I pray everyday that I can be even a little bit like her with my grandchildren.

What a joy and a gift grandchildren are to us.  They are, in a very real way, a big life “do-over” for all the things we didn’t do as parents that we wish we had done, and all the things we did do that we wish we hadn’t.  We have the opportunity to express to these wonderful little people how thrilled we are that they are around every time we see them.  We can let them know how special they are to us and how loved they are by us. We can be their biggest fans, cheering them on and encouraging them always to be all that God made them to be.

These are things that anyone can give to a child, whether you have a grandchild of your own or not.   It might be a neighbor child, a child of a single mom you know, or maybe a child from a community center where you can volunteer.  You can share your experience, your time, and your life with a child who needs attention and encouragement from someone other than his or her parent.   It is a gift that is invaluable but within the realm of possibility for each of us to give, no matter what our material resources are.   When we give of ourselves, the paradox is that we are the ones who truly receive and experience love, joy and abundant living.

My grandmother knew this.  She never gave me extravagant material gifts.  She gave to me  instead, the most rare and valuable, extravagant, extraordinary gift of all…a grandmother’s love.

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