About 36hrs ago, i received news of the passing on of my dear Grandmother (Mom’s mother). The last surviving grandparent on either side of my family. She succumbed to complications resulting from the stroke she had a few months ago.
I am still trying to come to terms with it and feeling the weight of losing someone so pivotal in our family. Realizing that my Grandma lived a full and meaningful life of purpose brings hope and peace to our wounded hearts. Indeed I know she is seated in heavenly places with the one true God, our Father.
As we all gather together as a family for the necessary funeral and mourning process, I am humbly reflecting on the life my Grandma (Gogo) led and the essence of life itself. Death makes you look at life with a fresh pair of eyes and briefly puts things back into perspective.
We do not remember days. We remember moments. And that is what I choose to hold on to.
Yes it’s the moments that count:
- Like when she (my Gogo) would give us sweets every time we visited her grocery shop when we were growing up even though my Mom didn’t want us eating sweets.
- And when she slapped me hard on the back of the head when I was a teenager, in my youthful foolishness i had gone to see her with my rebel hairstyle at the time – A Mohawk. Fun times! I didn’t have that hairstyle for much longer after that.
- And more recently, when she came over to our house last year for the weekend, about a month before she had the stroke. She sat with me and my sister and shared her heart about how she expected us to live a virtuous life, doing what is right and acceptable in the eyes of God. We talked and talked about life, love and relationships and I hold dear to my heart the values that she imbibed. I remember that we went to church together that weekend, had coffee afterwards and got priceless family photos taken with her.
I can never forget the way she represented our family heritage so well. She personally took care of more than 100 people (excl family members) in her lifetime, by giving them either food, shelter or supporting their education / employment.
At her ripe old age (88yrs), she had more than 30 grandchildren and great grandchildren, yet she knew each one by name and knew exactly where each one was at in their lives. She never once mixed up names or faces or stories.
My heart still aches, yesterday I cried for the first time since I was a child. Yet my crying was for myself because though we are mourning, we must rejoice and celebrate a life well lived.
Living a full life is not a about of the number of years you lived, but its about how you lived that life and the people you touched.
In loving memory of a loving & faithful, friend, sister, mother, grandmother, great grandmother, saint.