Jean

(third from the left)

I fired off this email on Sunday. It's been a long week. A hard week. But a really good week. I can't explain it. Although I'm sure I'll try....

Yesterday, I got a phone call. My grandma's health had been steadily declining for some time, but this suggestion to come see her felt different. I packed a bag and went. No hesitation.

Family was standing around her bedside, dressed in their matching blue gowns, when I arrived at the hospital. She was so frail. So tiny and childlike. I kissed her. We told stories and laughed. Her smile was weak and strained, but her spirit was alive.

We held hands, standing in a circle around her bed. And we prayed. We thanked God for her life and beautiful legacy. And my grandmother closed our prayer with her final coherent word: "Amen."

Fifteen minutes later or so, my mom, uncle and I were the only three to remain in the room with her. Her breathing changed. I stood at her side as her youngest son felt his mother's pulse fade away. She never complained. She was unafraid. Death was so peaceful and soft. The tears came before and after, but not then. I may have even smiled.

I was looking at her face the very moment she first looked Jesus in the eye.