Life on the Concrete Prairie: My Mamaw

I've been away from the blog for awhile because we've had a lot of things going on. Some of those things were planned and others were not. First, I noticed that our hot water tank was leaking. We had a plumber look at it, and he said it needed to be replaced. Plus, the plumbing for the current tank wasn't up to code, so that had to be fixed, too. Apparently, the tank had been slowly leaking for quite awhile, so the floor is damaged. On the bright side, we decided that when we have the floor repaired this week, we're going to also have the contractor re-tile our whole kitchen. That will be one home improvement item to check off of our list.

The most major unexpected event was that my grandmother passed away on August 3rd. She had been in the hospital for several days and her condition started to deteriorate. Pregnant or not, there was no way I wasn't going to be with her. Wes had to work, but I made the decision to go anyway. I packed up Mia, and she and I made the almost five hour road trip by ourselves.

Within 30 minutes of getting into town, my sister and I went over to the nursing home that my Mamaw had been transferred to that day from the hospital. I knew that they were keeping her in a medically-induced coma because her pain from her recurrent colon cancer was too severe for her to tolerate. I was a little scared to see her. I was afraid she wouldn't look like herself, but there she was. There was my Mamaw lying so still in that little room with just her chest moving slowly up and down. I knew things weren't going well. I knew that as much as I wanted her to, she wouldn't open her eyes, smile at me, and say, "Well, hi honey!" the way she always used to. I could accept that. I was able to stroke her hair, kiss her a few times, hold her hand, and tell her that I loved her. I know that she heard me. I feel like she waited for me because 45 minutes after I got there, she gently and quietly went to be with her Lord.

She was 92 years old. Her birthday had been that Monday, July 30th. She was ready to go. She knew it was coming, and she got to see most everyone. I'm so glad I made it in time even though we didn't get to talk. My Mamaw was an extremely independent woman. My dad said that she's proof that we come from "tough stock". She still lived in her own home alone up until she went into the hospital for the last time. She was a great cook. I remember growing up that on Sundays after church we would usually go to her house for lunch. The menu was almost always blissfully the same: brown beans, fried potatoes, and cornbread. However, we didn't call it that. We're from the South. We ate beans, taters, and cornbread. Any Southerners that read this will know what I'm talking about. Nobody could make that meal like she could. The most iconic thing that sticks out in my mind when I think of her (other than her rocking chair) is her front porch swing. She loved to sit on it. We would just swing and talk until the sun went down. Time seemed to stand still.

She also loved going fishing and was planning a fishing trip before she went to the hospital. I like to think that maybe that's what she's doing now. She's with family and friends that had gone on before her. Maybe she's just sitting on a bank and fishing while she waits patiently for the rest of us. I look forward to the day when I see her again. Her eyes will crinkle up as she smiles. I'll hear her say, "Well, hi honey!" Until then, I'm happy here with my husband, my babies, and the rest of my family. I'm thankful for God's awesome promises, and I'm happy to know she's in heaven where we'll meet again some day.

This is the last picture I took of her at Zoey's party last month.