December 1, 2014
It was when he went up to her, asking to be in her arms. She took him and nestled him under her chin and he relaxed there. She rocked that growing baby boy - the one who rarely settles and stills. Yet, he stilled for her. Maybe somewhere in his little person he knows what a treasure it is to be held by your great-grandmother.
And I am always grasping for pieces of her, trying to hold on to something that I never held on to when she was here.
Sometimes I have these silly notions of heaven that bring me comfort. Though theology might tell me differently, I often like to think of my mom watching me from heave, looking down and peering into my every day life. I can always picture her cheering me on or offering me encouragement. I can see her smile for me, proud of who I am and how much I am like her. And I have to admit, that during these short moments as I watched Jacob surrender into my Grandmother's arms, I imagined that she was somehow there with us and with him and somehow he knows her because he has known my embrace and my Gramma's.
It's Christmas season now. My house is twinkling and my home is decked out with garlands and berries and ribbon and full of the kind of cozy beauty that comes with December. I like to think that she sees. And she is smiling.