Eleven years ago, my grandpa, her husband of more than fifty years was called home to Heaven. Taking care of herself was never a strength, as my grandpa loved to care for her. Although she was in her seventies when her husband died, my grandma gave up. She lost a son before I was born, and I am guessing she was jealous that Ron and Grandpa were together in Heaven without her. In time, she moved into a home. Eventually she lost her sight to glaucoma. A few years ago, they hooked her up to oxygen, when the fifty years of smoking finally caught up with her lung function.
Eight years ago, my friend, a beautiful soul, who had so much life to give, died. Upon hearing of her death, I cried, and thought of my grandma who laid in her bed all day wishing she was dead. “Why, God? Why? Why did you keep Grandma on Earth, but take a woman who had so much life to give?”
God didn’t answer. I may never understand.
Four years ago, when my young, vibrant, loving husband was given a terminal diagnosis, I cried again. Eventually, God took him home too. “Why, God, why? Why do you let her live when she really wants to die?”
God didn’t answer. I will never understand how He decides who lives and who dies.
Throughout the years and through my grief, I allowed my grandma to be dead in my head. She wanted to be with my grandpa, my uncle, and her friends who left before her. If she had unfinished business on Earth, I had no idea how she would accomplish it. She was done with life, and I wanted it to be true for her.
Now, she is sick, but for whatever reason is still on Earth. Every night I pray that God finally takes my grandma back home. It’s where she wants to be, and I am praying for the day she will finally be free.