Goodbye, Dear Grammy

On May 30, 2012, my dear grandmother, Barbara Morris Jacobson, went to sleep where she is resting until Jesus comes to wake her up and to take us to be with Him forever. Her death came quickly, a surprise to us, but that is how she wanted to go. She loathed the idea of dying slowly and she feared the long painful process that her husband and so many of her friends went through. She was active and lively up til the end, cooking two meals for herself and weeding in the garden up til the day of the heart attack.

Grammy, as I called her, was so special to me. I always knew that I was special to her too. She traveled all the way to Tanzania to be with my mom for my birth where she held me, sang to me, bathed me, and without a doubt, we bonded.As I grew, she would visit me and when she couldn't, she would write letters and postcards and send presents. I almost always liked her presents, except for one time when I was about 6 years old, she gave me a corn husk doll and I burst into tears. She took it back and said, "No problem. I'll keep it! I guess I like it better than you anyway!" Somehow, she didn't end up taking it home with her and I still have it. It's a good reminder to me to always accept presents with politeness. Who knows, maybe 20 years down the road, you'll end up liking it!

When I was 10 years old, the miracle of miracles happened! Grammy and Grampy came to live with us in Oregon! I thought I was in heaven. I spent hours with Grammy, cooking, baking, weeding, sewing, and always talking a mile a minute the whole time. We even invented our own language called "Ooni-oot", which was incomprehensible to all other humans. Grammy home-schooled me for one year, which I thoroughly enjoyed and even when we weren't in the classroom, she was always teaching. She taught me the names of almost every plant on our property. She taught me to weed and to like weeding, and that hawk-weed, queen anne's lace, comfrey, and scotch broom are good for one thing: the burn pile. She taught me that bashing through the woods brings one a great deal of pleasure and every time we had the chance, she would beg me to go "bashing" with her. She taught me that making puzzles is not a waste of time. She taught me to enjoy every flower and pick up every beautiful rock, much to my dad's dismay.

When we would go on road trips, my mom would pack a lunch, but I always found it more enchanting to eat out of Grammy's lunch-bag. After all, she had packed extra sandwiches just for me! She was an amazing cook and tried to instill her love for cooking in me. But I would rather clean while she cooked. I would help her with sweeping, mopping, dusting, toilet scrubbing, and vacuuming almost every Friday. When Grampy had a stroke, I started helping out even more. Grammy would call me over every morning to help Grampy swallow his pills, which was a task only I could convince him to do. Then I would brush Grammy's hair and help her search for some lost item. She would pay me with a hug, which was more than enough.

Then of course, there was the first time I rode in a car that Grammy was driving. It was mildly frightening at first and then became progressively more so as we came up to a stop sign. Grammy hollered out while looking at her feet: "Where's the brake?" I really thought we were going to die. Then I got my permit, and she thought SHE was going to die! But soon after I started driving, she gave me a downright compliment. "Melissa," she said, "You're a very good driver. Can you be my chauffeur?"

One day, my mom decided I needed to teach Grammy how to use a computer. I started with the different parts of a computer. She recognized the keyboard because it looked similar to her typewriter, but the mouse completely frightened her and she let out a squawk, fully convinced that it would bite her!

Grammy and I shared many laughs together. She thought EVERYTHING was funny. And if she didn't find something funny, then I surely did. Between the two of us, we spent a lot of time laughing over the silliest things. One day, I was sitting on the floor in her house and we all got to laughing over something (I wish I could remember what it was) and I rolled over holding my stomach from the pain of laughing too long and hard. Before I knew it, I was covered in red sauce. I had rolled into her box of tomatoes. It took a long time for us to stop laughing long enough to clean it up!

Grammy loved Jesus and that was easy to tell. She woke up early to study her Bible and pray for each of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren by name. She earnestly worked for souls her whole life and longed to see each of her friends and family members live for Jesus. She loved it when I would visit her just to pray together and we always shared many tears. She always referred to it as, "I have the weeps." I suppose those are genetic because I have them too!

Just a few months ago, I took Grammy to the airport and the agent was kind enough to let me go through security to help Grammy to her gate. We sat next to each other and talked for a long time. When it came time for her to board the plane, we said goodbye. She hugged me and then she started crying. "Melissa," she said, "I love you. I'm sorry for not saying it more often. I really do love you." I knew she meant it because she didn't say it often. We embraced while our tears moistened each other's shoulders. I waved to her until her short frame was hidden from view.

I am saddened that we had to be apart the last five years since I've been at school. She faithfully took over the job of mothering my cats and watching over my garden. I didn't stay in touch nearly as often as I had planned to. Whenever we talked on the phone, she would cry and say she missed me and couldn't wait until I came home. The occasional postcard made my day and I did my best to return them. This last semester I started sending her a postcard faithfully every month. In the last month of school, I sent her one a week. I also sent her a birthday present, a movie poster titled "Laugh" featuring the two of us laughing. She got a real kick out of it, laughing every time she passed her dresser where it sat. I am happy to know that I was able to bring joy to her last days.

On May 20, I was outside painting when I heard my grandma calling for help. I ran to her side and spent the next few hours helping her to stop vomiting, giving her hot foot baths, helping her to the bathroom and back, and changing her sweat-laden clothes. When she started breathing heavily and clutching her chest, I knew she was having a heart attack! My dad rushed home from his meeting and together we raced her to the hospital. I knew she wouldn't make it. But for the next 10 days, there were some hopeful moments. I was torn as I watched her body swell and her breathing become more labored. I sat in her hospital room for hours. I paced in the waiting room for ages. I prayed, I made phone calls, I wept until my tear ducts ran dry. Sleeping was next to impossible. I couldn't imagine life without her. I couldn't imagine letting her go. But she went. And I miss her more than I've ever missed anyone else before.

Every time I walk into her house, I'm reminded of my heart's deep aching. Every time I pass the woods where the turks cap lilies are in full bloom, I wish she were there to see them too. Every time I hear the songs, "Flee as a Bird" or "Eternal Father, Strong to Save" I completely lose it. I'd like to get through one day without crying. But then again, I wouldn't want to become hardened. I think I'll keep "the weeps," my very own built-in heirloom. I want to keep the memories fresh in my mind. I want to remember my grandmother and pass on the memories to my (future) kids who never had the chance to meet her. Yes, pass me another tissue box. Tears? Let them come. I pray that I will leave a legacy as rich as hers. I pray that someday soon I can be reunited with my Grammy as we rise up "to meet the Lord in the air. And so shall we ever be with the Lord." *

Even so, come, Lord Jesus! **

* 1 Thess. 4:17
** Rev. 22:20