Loss

This year has been a miraculous one.  The year I delivered Maverick.  It still thrills me to think about what a miracle it is.  When I look at Maverick and Rocco I can't help but praise Jesus.  And just to think that I am their mom.  It's just wonderful.  

This year has not been all joyous though.  Since May I have lost three very close relatives.  On May 2 I lost my 95 year old great-grandmother.  Mamaw, as we all called her, was not your ordinary mamaw.  She was a ballroom dancer back in the day, could cook really good (even taught my nana and mom how to make delicious dishes like dressing), owned her own beauty shop, put together flower arrangements like a professional, played the piano, sang the silliest songs to us, and was also a tremendous prayer warrior.  She was a sight, and was so much fun to be around.  She'd kid around with all of us.  Mamaw was full of surprises, too.  My cousin Jennifer (and her mom, my Aunt Helen) lived with her.  When I was growing up I'd spend the night over there a good bit.  One day Jennifer and I were snowed in and couldn't go to school.  We spent hours playing this computer game, "Miner Forty-Niner."  We just couldn't beat this one level.  Finally, mamaw wanted to know what all the fuss what about.  She said, "Let me try."  On her first try she beat the level leaving Jennifer and me speechless.  To this day we still laugh about the day mamaw beat the game we never could.  

I love this picture of Rocco reaching out to mamaw.  It literally shows one generation touching another. 

 As she aged her mind couldn't remember things.  She would ask over and over again, "Now when did you adopt him?  You don't have to take him back do you?  How old is he?"  I'd just tell her the same answers again as if it was the first time she'd asked.  It was so sad to see her like that.  For most of my life she was so alert, quick witted, and even drove her car when most elderly were shut in.  She lived a long, productive life. And I know that she knew who Jesus was.  Certainly today she is rejoicing with her Savior in heaven.  Her son, Buddy, was my mom's dad.  He died when I was a child.  

Three months after her death, my family would experience another loss. This time on my dad's side.  On August 10th, my dad's sister, Katie, died.  

  She was 79.  Katie was a hard worker, and up until her death was still taking care of others.  She enjoyed working in the garden and could raise a lot of home grown vegetables.  If she wasn't growing some food, she was cooking it for someone.  Katie was another person I miss greatly because I know she really prayed for me.  Often she would tell me that she was praying for me to have a baby.  Today I have two sons, and I know her prayers were answered.  

Katie loved to laugh.  One summer my family and I went to Daytona Beach.  Katie went with us.  She and Rocco had a time laughing over practically nothing.  Once they started laughing I thought they'd never stop.  My dad misses her tremendously today, just as we all do.  My dad and Katie were very close to each other.

Not even two weeks after Katie died, my Papaw Billy died.  I was very close to him.  I cherished that man, for he was my hero.  When I was in 8th grade I watched as his convoy left Chattanooga, TN, and headed to Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm.  Oh how my heart hurt the day he said goodbye to my nana and us!  Not knowing if we'd see him alive again or not, we prayed and trusted for the best.  He indeed returned and we enjoyed a little more than 20 more years with him.  

My papaw and nana owned a nice home and a beautifully landscaped yard.  They worked hard to pay for everything they owned.  They didn't hire a gardener to keep up their flowers.  They spent hours outside doing the work themselves, and it really showed.  

My papaw made an honest living at Dupont and had a reputation for being a dependable man.  One man that worked with him in the National Guard and at Dupont said that you could always count on him to do his part.  He was a true team player.  He was a great leader, too.  He was a sergeant over many troops in the guards.  Every summer he'd go to Camp Shelby and endure the hard training and the heat . . .all for the love of his country.  When duty called him to protect us, he headed to the Middle East without reservation.  He was a brave man.  

He was also a fun papaw. He wasn't afraid to get in the floor and wrestle with my brother,Tyler, or play trucks with Rocco.  He LOVED his family.

He'd often joke with me about my grades when I was growing up.  "99?  Can't you make a better grade than that?"  He was so proud of me- he was my #1 fan.  That was cool because I was his biggest fan, too.  We had a mutual love and respect.  

And speaking of love and respect, I will never forget the relationship he had with my nana (my mom's mom).  When my nana was so sick with staph in the hospital, he stood right by her side.  Even though he himself wasn't healthy, he wanted to be with her each day at the hospital.  And when he got sick my nana refused to let him stay in a nursing home.  Even though her neck, arm, and back were in terrible shape, she would bathe him, push him in the wheelchair, and sweetly feed him at home.  I've never witnessed such selfless love in a couples' lives like I did theirs.  

I still can't believe he is gone.  It just doesn't seem real.  I look at pictures of him, and it's like I am going to see him in a week or so.  I guess I am still in denial because it just doesn't feel like he's gone.  

He knew the Lord, so I know he is not suffering from Parkinson's anymore.  Thank you Lord that there are no wheelchairs, oxygen tanks, or pain medicines in heaven.  I know papaw would not come back to this earth even if he had the chance.  But I do know he is waiting on me to join him one day.   And perhaps there are beautiful horses that we'll be able to ride together.  I know he would like that.