Friday, October 9, 2015

Back! Hopefully...

This was definitely a very unplanned break from blogging. But life took a baseball bat and knocked me for six.

Moving/not moving? (So far as I can see? No, not now.)

Tried new things by way of canning - like peaches!  (Just a note - I will never blanch peaches again. EVER. I'll peel them, and use the peels for peach butter later.)

The biggest thing happened the last week of August.
My mother got a call from her mom, who lives in Alabama. The reason?
My grandmother did not want any treatment to prolong life.
My mom went down to be with her mom and brother, as soon as she could. Daily phone calls were my life for the next 8 days. And when Mom called me, I prayed inwardly that it wouldn't be that Grandma was gone. I in the meantime, had a commitment to dog sit that began on the 4th of September and ended the 8th. (Originally was the 9th and the lady asked me if it would help if she came back a day early.)

We headed down the next morning (9th). It takes about 12 hours to drive down.

Arriving late at night, amidst heavy rain, we simply collapsed in bed.
Five something the next morning (9-10-15), we were wakened by my uncle. He said, "If you want to see her, you better come up now."

I am so grateful that Jesus worked everything out so we could be there in time to see her. Even laying there so weak and frail, my grandma still managed to tease T., my next younger brother about his good looks and spoke to each of us.

That was at around 6 am.
As the morning progressed, it was soon apparent that it was a matter of hours, not days or weeks anymore.

She was born on May 8, 1928 in Alabama. Lived in that state her entire life. Did hair for the ladies, loved on the elderly, drove - with zip!, raised 2 children, was married to my Poppa for over 50 years, lost all her siblings as the years went on (she was the youngest of 9), and watched her grand kids grow up. She was able to see 4 great grandchildren as well. She endured the loss of a grandson and her husband.

At 9:11 am on 9-10-15, F. L. Johnson slipped home to Jesus.

My Mom, myself, Uncle L., Aunt J., and J's daughter K. were in the room. Now, I can say that death is not a fear for me anymore. She went so quietly, so peacefully. Oh, I bawled so much, but there was a real peace.

Later, before the coroner (who is also the funeral home director!) got there, my aunt's mother was sitting in the room (with Grandma J. in the bed). Several of us joined her there, reminiscing about Grandmas' idiosyncrasies and funny sayings. It wasn't creepy or weird. Again, there was no fear.

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