I’m working with my dad on putting together my Grandma’s (my dad’s mom) memoirs into a book of some sort. Proofing the draft version has been an eye opening and inspiring look into the life of someone who I have a hard time seeing as anything other than the sweet old grandma that always has fresh jam and buns for us and now our kids – her great-grandkids.
What will likely end up being the opening paragraph(s) to the book certainly changed how I will look at my Grandma now:
The day was May 23, 1995.
As I entered my home that evening, I knew I was turning over another chapter in my life. My life would from this day forward be forever different than it had been for many years previous. I had just returned from the hospital where my husband of 52 years, John, had passed away.
I would now be alone.
Yes, my children and grandchildren would come for a visit regularly but for the most part I would be alone. It was one of those cruel realities of life. John and I had spent many years together and we knew one of us would more than likely pass away before the other but it was still hard to believe it had actually happened to me. It had happened to my mother. She survived 37 years of widowhood. Now it was my turn. I was alone.
God help me.
Lord, give me strength for each day. I knew the God who looked after my mother for all those years would also look after me.