Never Enough Time – A Tribute

I said goodbye to you tonight.

I knew this day would come; I’ve known it for a long time. I even knew somehow that it would come soon, but I’m still not ready.

This disease that slowly stole you from us the last few years is finally coming to take you for good, and even though the grieving has been a little bit at a time, it never accumulates into anything tangible, and every time I think of you, the sorrow begins anew and my insides ache with longing for what once was.

You were a constant in my life for my whole life – always there with a hug and kiss, a laugh and a smile, with homemade pancakes, fried potatoes, baked chicken, homemade dinner rolls, spaghetti, and cinnamon rolls. You were always there with encouragement, approval, and a bit of advice if I wanted it, but you never forced it. I will never forget the feel of your soft, wrinkled skin as I kissed you on the cheek each time, the gnarled, blue veins peeking through your soft, work-worn, kind hands. Your love language was food, and you so lovingly prepared the best for not only our family but for others in need.

You were patient and kind. You loved fiercely. You were a force to be reckoned with, but it was so subtle that most people never understood your true power. You were honest and fair, and true to your faith, to your marriage, and to your family. You are one of those people that I just feel will be here forever, and I know you will be in my heart.

Up until a few years ago when the disease robbed your mind of the sense of time, you called me each year on my birthday, and I always answered that call even though I hate talking on the phone, just because I love you so much and wanted to hear your voice. The thought of never hearing your voice again say, “I love you, Honey,” is almost more than I can bear.

How do you encapsulate a lifetime of memories, a lifetime of love, a lifetime of gratitude, a lifetime of impact into a single, five-minute phone call? I did my best. I tried to tell you how much I love you. How thankful I am for you and for your influence in my life. To tell you that I hope you have a peaceful journey and to ask you to tell PaPa I love him too when you finally get to Heaven – I never got to tell him goodbye. I hope you heard. I hope you understood. I hope you felt even a fraction of the enormity of my love for you through the line.

I already miss you. I can’t imagine life without you. I will love you for eternity.

My dearest grandmother, MeMa passed away last night. I wrote this as I was processing my thoughts after I called her to say goodbye.