I was sitting in my home with my family waiting for my parents to join us for Christmas morning.
My parents finally came pulling into my driveway and frantically running into our home
"Mom, Dad... What's wrong? I ask them....
All I heard in reply was the rapidly-inhaling wheeze someone has when their words are battling with their tears.
“What’s wrong? Take a deep breath.”
“It’s Mammaw…she’s…”
*wheeze*
“Guys, What’s wrong with Mammaw?”
*wheeze*
“She had a heart attack, son. She’s on her way to the Hospital.”
My world started spinning. I felt like things slowed down and sped up, all in the same moment. Everything seemed incredibly real and tangible…and at the same time, chaotic. In shock, all we new to do was to pray. So we said a quick prayer and all I remember after that was the sound of the ignition as it combined with the screeching of tires from my parents car as they sped away to the hospital.
Immediately following that my older sister Dawn calls me and asks me to come pick her up and head to meet the family at the hospital. We quickly call our friends from Church to see if they can watch the kids and then my wife and i speed out to pick up my sister.I will never forget the Call we got just 3 miles from the Hospital.
"She's gone son, She's gone."
I couldn't believe my ears, I was in Shock. Was she really gone? We were just with her two nights ago... She seemed so well? I wrestled with my feelings over the next few miles while my wife and sister were overcome by their emotions.
When we came walking into the area she was in, we all cried and hugged each other in shock of what just happened. I just had to see her one last time, My wife, sister and I walked into the room where she was. Mammaw was laying on the bed. She’d died in her own home. She hadn’t been feeling the best, but her general demeanor and look were improving. Then, she was gone. In an instant, she went to be with Jesus. I bent down and kissed her cheek, a tear dripping down mine onto hers. “I love you, Mammaw” I whispered.
Last Year, on Christmas morning, I lost my Grandma. I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. I’m reminded of her love, her warmth, her laugh, and her put-everything-from-the-freezer-in-the-pot soup. Every Christmas Eve, I remember the breakfasts we’d eat and the gifts we’d open. I remember the shows she loved and the coffee she drank. I remember the smell her house had. I remember the letters she would write to me when I was living in Chicago away from my family and running from God. She would affirm me that no matter what, God still loved me and had a plan for me. I remember what her Bible looked like and the worn cover from the years of use. I will always view her as a cornerstone for the Weidman family, a pillar of Faith, and a Woman of God
I wish I had one last Christmas with her. That I could have one last Christmas to hear her laugh at Tippy jumping off of her couch at everyone in the room. That we had one last Family get-together to eat her huge, very-unhealthy-but-very-good meal. That one last time I could hear her say, “Eat, honey. Eat ’til you’re full. Then eat some more. Eat slow and eat a lot.” That I could open up the refrigerator one last time and see all of the drinks she’d gotten…she always had your favorite good and cold.
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