Grandma

I've tried several times to sit down and write about her. I want to capture how she has impacted my life and how hard it is for me to let her go. Maybe I'll be able to express it well in writing someday. For now, I'm thankful that I got to see her one more time. I talked with her. We laughed and I told her for the last time how much I love her.

She's asleep now. They assure us that she's comfortable. My mom and sister and I chose what she will wear. It's beautiful and colorful and classy - just like her.

Mom and Amy see her each day, comb her hair and hold her hand. I hope she is not afraid and knows how much she is cherished and loved.

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I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side
spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and
starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty
and strength. I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the
sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as
large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she
left my side and she is just as able to bear her load
of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at
the moment when someone at my side says: "There she is
gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and
other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here
she comes!"

And that is dying.

-Henry Van Dyke