In Memory of My Grandma

Last weekend, we came to Kentucky with two purposes in mind. We drove up because my mom’s birthday was Saturday. We are glad to live close enough to where we can be there for certain days like that. It was great to get to see mom on her birthday!

We also came up, though, because my grandmother was doing poorly. She had been going downhill for quite some time, but in the last couple of weeks, she had really gotten bad. While she didn’t really know us, we could tell that she knew someone was there, and we all got to talk with her, hug her, and tell her how much we love her.

I’m glad we did that.

For several weeks, grandma has been saying one phrase over and over: “I want to go home.” She would say a few other things, but, as her mind slipped, that was the phrase heard constantly. That longing for her home was shared, literally thousands of times over the past month or so.

Yesterday, grandma went home.

While we cry because we miss her, we are grateful that she lived her life as a faithful Christian. To this day, I’ve never met anyone more peaceful. She was quiet and loved simple things in life. It’s some of those simple things I will miss the most.

It is only fitting that, though it is early February, yesterday was a sunny, warm day. The temperature was in the 60s and almost no clouds were in the sky. Grandma would have loved a day like yesterday. She enjoyed being outside, but not when it was too hot. She often worked in the garden. She mowed the yard. Often she and my grandfather would be seen just sitting in front of their quaint house near the Ohio River watching cars and people go by, and just enjoying the breeze and sunshine (and making fun of the “idiots headed to that boat” to gamble).

She liked having the family in her house. We often had meals around holidays at Grandma’s house, but her joy was just that we were all there. While she didn’t say a lot, it was obvious from her face that she was having a ball.

Often, when we came to visit in the Summer, she and I would walk to the “local” Dairy Queen. I say “local” because it wasn’t like it was next door. No, indeed. It was about a 15-minute walk, but we always came back with a Blizzard for me and one for her and Grandpa to share. If it was a bit too hot (or cold) to walk over to Dairy Queen, Grandma would make us some Butterfinger Blizzards or chocolate milk shakes that were hard to beat!

Of all the things we did with Grandma, the one memory she kept bringing up in the last few years was that she remembered how much I loved her chicken pot pie. And, how true that was! Her pot pie was awesome! She used to kid about how many helpings I would get. Mmmmmm!

All those memories will be treasured, but more than those, I’ll remember Grandma’s influence. She was a hero of faith. Peaceful and calm, she always was the definition of a lady. Even when she had to move to an assisted living home, all the workers and nurses said she was their favorite.

We weren’t here yesterday when she died, but mom told me that, as she was dying, every worker at the home came by and kissed her with tears running down their faces. Though mentally she slipped quite some time ago, the sweetness never left, and those workers didn’t forget it. As my dad said, “She died like she lived: peaceful and calm.”

Laura Ruth Turner is a name that may not be known world-wide, but heaven isn’t populated with the famous.

It’s home for the faithful, and Grandma is home.