Becoming Virtuous

Somehow I knew. Last night I didn’t want to go to sleep, and I wrote these words to describe the angst I just couldn’t shake, 

“Staying up to watch the sun rise, because I don’t want to miss every last second of this world with you in it.”

Grammy, words cannot describe how thankful I am for you. I never doubted that you cared deeply for me. You’d travel from another state to catch every ballet recital, graduation, and every single major life milestone. You took on babysitting three little kids for a week so Mom and Dad could take a vacation, and it somehow turned into a yearly tradition (and the origin of many of my favorite childhood memories). You wrote me letters, even though I was abysmal at writing you back. You lived out how to be a hard worker and keep going even when it felt like the world was against you. You graciously extended hospitality countless times to us noisy kids, and you never complained or were begrudging. You gave us the greatest gift, the gift of your presence. And I am so thankful.

I love you so, so much, and I still can’t quite believe that you are gone. It doesn’t feel real, it can’t possibly be real. You lived a long life, but it still felt so sudden. You definitely leave behind a hole that will never quite be filled.

I pray that I may follow in your footsteps in continually showing up for my family in the way that you continually showed up for me. And I pray that you knew at the end the great love God has for you, and how very much we all loved you as well.