Dad called Wednesday and said she was not going to last much longer.
“Do you want to say something to her? I will hold the phone to her ear. She will probably not hear you.”
“I still want to talk to her anyway.”
“Thank you for being a wonderful . . . grandmother and a special person. Ashton, Lauren, and Paul think the same thing. You need Jesus because He is the most important person—you need to ask Him into her heart,” I said as my words turned to crying.
These are the last words I would say to her.
Paul hadn’t seen his grandparents much because they lived far away. Two of his grandparents died when he was in high school or college, and three died before he was born. Fortunately, he had mine.
I received a text from Joann on January 5, 2012. She wrote, “Grandmother is finally at peace and no longer in pain. She passed away at 2:40 p.m. The memorial service will be on Saturday at 2:00 p.m. at her church on St. Simons. Her service will be at the cemetery in Savannah in the upcoming weeks when it is convenient for our cousins and us.”
There will not an open casket because Grandmother was cremated—she didn’t want people to see her that way.
I called Dad to see if he wanted us to stay at a hotel. Things would be hectic around his house, and I did not want to make it worse.
“I want your family to stay here.”
He was talkative, which surprised me a little, and he was excited to see everyone. He might have felt relieved after managing Grandmother’s finances and many other things for years.
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