A Letter to My Grandma-on her first birthday in heaven

6/9/2025

The first birthday of yours since I have been born that I can’t pick up the phone to hear your voice, or drop by the house to sing you the birthday song. So many milestones have happened since November 18, 2024, but this one seems to sting just a bit stronger. I think part of it is that the reality of living every single day on this earth going forward without you in it can be overwhelming and literally makes me feel like I just can’t breathe.

Going through your writings, I have come across the days and moments that you lost your mom, your person, and it’s like you were writing me a guidebook of how to survive losing you.

Sentences like “a knot formed around my heart and crept to your bedside”. That knot started while I was in a store in Overland Park,  and my sister called telling me that the news wasn’t good. The cancer was back and more aggressive. There I was trying to emotionally prepare for my oldest’s graduation from high school and the news that we had been dreading. 

The knot stayed all throughout that season. When the next treatment option didn’t work. When we had to really start facing this, was it. When cancer began to eat away the person that I knew and loved. Each time, I could feel you drifting further and further away. Your strength and dignity never wavered. You gave it everything you had. I’m so proud of you. 

In your notes, you also wrote that “I was there with her, and I could not do a thing”. I get that. Oh, the times I felt that. I couldn’t make the cancer go away. I couldn’t lessen the pain or the hurt you had to go through. I couldn’t understand why it was happening to one of God’s greatest kingdom fighters. 

Also in your notes, was this sentence, “God, I screamed silently, that’s my confidant, companion, friend, compassionate, tolerant, anything I did was o.k., my biggest fan and cheerleader.” You were all those things and more to me. The prayers I prayed, and have continued to pray to fill these holes, are unceasing. 

Your presence while you were here was often quiet. You were always in the background, making sure things ran smoothly. You had already ironed out the details, made the lists, sent the emails, and had everyone on the same page. You worked diligently and consistently on everything from making meals, documenting history, caring for your community, keeping an open door, heart, and ear for anyone who needed it. 

This makes your absence loud. Sometimes so loud that it’s unbearable. Excruciating. Hard. 

There are moments when I don’t understand how anything moves forward. Thinking about planning all future events without you in them. Graduations, weddings, how in the world am I supposed to have grandchildren and they not know you? 

But, again, in your notes, I find my answers.

In regards to your mom, you said, “She was not only a Christian, but she raised her family that way. Without that assurance, life would not be worth anything.” 

In church on Sunday, we sang a song that said, “He is faithful through generations”. I had to close my eyes as I felt the tears starting to come down. He truly is. Look at how he has worked through your mom, through you, through dad, through me, now through my kids. I know that while you supported us in everything we ever did in life, watching your kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids find a relationship with Jesus was your proudest moment. 

The night before you passed away, there was a small reception to honor you from the DAR. It was rough getting you there. The cancer had taken so much, but in true you fashion, you made sure to show up with your best self and soak in the moment. After I read the small write-up that I did in regards to your accomplishments, you looked me directly in the eyes and said, “You did a good job.” 

As always, there you were, in the middle of your pain and hurt, showing up for me. Giving me words and encouragement, you knew I would need. I will carry that moment with me forever, along with so many others that you sprinkled in throughout my life. 

So today, on your first birthday in heaven, while I am still so sad, the empty hole in my heart hasn’t gotten smaller, there are still moments that hurt so bad I don’t know how to move forward, I want you to know that throughout all of that, I am reminded that through out your  life, you provided us with the greatest gift, and that is that if we keep our relationship with God, follow your example, and live the way you taught us, this hurt will all go away, and one day, we get to see you again, and that will be the celebration that will top all of things we thought we had celebrated before. 

I love you. I miss you. 

I’m sure your mom, your dad, and your sisters are so excited to celebrate with you today. Selfishly, I wish it were me.