My Grandma Howell has died.

I woke up Sunday morning with an idea. I thought how nice it would be to be able to "talk" to my grandma one last time before she died. Just a passing thought as I got ready for church in the morning.

The last time I talked to my grandma was two years ago. We drove up to Michigan in the summer before we moved to Burkina Faso to spend a few days visiting my dad and his side of the family before we headed overseas. Unfortunately, once we arrived I was never able to see my grandma as I hoped. She had had dementia for a while already at that point and was not having a good week when we arrived, due to certain situations she wouldn't see us.

I was able to talk to her on the phone though. I talked to her about how we were moving to Africa. How we would miss her very much. I told her about how we were already in contact with an orphanage in the country and asked if she would be willing to make anything for the kids and send them to us. She grew very excited at this idea and told me she would love the opportunity to crochet some little hats and blankets for the children and would give them to my dad to send to us. We talked for a while longer about little things, but what stood out to me was the excitement I heard spark in her voice at the idea of making things again. At having some purpose. To be able to put her hands to use and serve. My grandma is a master crocheter and knitter. I have handmade crocheted Barbie clothes from her from 25 years ago that the girls are now using and these clothes don't have one piece of thread out of place. They are not missing a single button and they are in just as good a shape as the day she gifted them to me. She made me a large pink and white afghan when I was just a little girl, and I brought it with us to Burkina. She made such beautiful, long lasting things. She was so talented, that lady.

My idea of having her make little hats and blankets for the orphanage never amounted to anything. Wishful thinking I guess. A dream. Her dementia was progressing and she had already started mixing things up, forgetting people. Soon after we arrived in Burkina her condition gradually got worse and worse and she was in and out of the hospital a lot, until finally she was placed in a nursing home, and then brought back to her house for hospice care these last two weeks.

My dad called me Sunday evening, and when I saw the Michigan area code I thought he was calling to tell me that she had died. But to my surprise, he said that she was still hanging on, and wanted to know if I wanted to talk to her one last time. She was no longer speaking, but he put the phone up to her ear so that she could hear my voice.....

"Hi Grandma, it's Missy....."

It wasn't a long talk. I told her I loved and how she had a new great-grandson, that I was praying for her and I looked forward to the day when we could all be together again. When my dad came back on the line I asked if he thought she could still hear, and he told me she opened her eyes and started making some little noises and moving a bit. She was also able to hear from Joel and Jordan that day as well. She got to hear all her grandchildren's voices.

An hour later she took her final breath.

I can only say through tears how grateful I am to my dad for his idea to be able to talk to my grandma. It was a gift. A gift for my heart to be able to speak to her one last time before she departed this earth. A gift for her heart to hear from her beloved grandchildren in her final hours. To know that she was loved and valued and not forgotten even in our separation. I wish I could have given her more. I wish I could have been closer. I wish I could have been there to hold her hand. But since I couldn't be I am grateful for the opportunity we were given to connect one last time.

(Grandma with Sydaleigh in December 2006)

This is how I have always remembered my grandma, since I was a little girl. She wore her house slippers, over her panty hose with slacks. She's always had white hair, every since I can remember, and it was always permed and styled. Her house always had a recliner or two for her and my grandpa and was filled with delicate little knick knacks on all her shelves and cabinets. Everything was always immaculately clean, the beds always made, nothing out of place.

She was married to my grandpa for over 60 years. My mind can scarcely take in the length of that commitment. Together for so long. So much history. My grandpa did not cope well these last few years seeing his beloved bride decline in health. I can't imagine his sorrow and sense of loss....it must be immense. I hope I am as fortunate as these two to see my marriage span over six decades.

(Our trip to MI in July 2008 to see the family and introduce everyone to the newest little member, Marvelly. There's me and Jordan on the far right. Isaak behind. My Aunt Sandy and the girls next to him. My grandma and grandpa on the left. And my dad and cousin Jason in front on the left. This was the last time I would see my grandma.)

The last few years of my grandma's life were very hard on her, and my dad, as he carried the burden of her ailing mind and body squarely on his shoulders. He sought to love her well and he took care of her with selfless sacrifice and was by her side until the very end. He has been a beautiful and convicting example of love and sacrifice to me in his care for his mother.

She loved to bake and cook. We always went over to their house on holidays and sure enough there would be jello present regardless of the holiday. And chocolate milk. When I cooked my first turkey here in Burkina two years ago I called my mom for directions and she gave me my grandma Howell's recipe, herself having used it for the past twenty some years as well. Me and my brothers used to have sleep-overs at her house growing up and she taught us how to play Skip-bo and Uno and other random card games. We always played cards. We would also play pool as they had a big pool table set up in their basement. I can still remember walking down the steep steps into their basement and smelling the unique smell of their house. Driving in their car to Wendy's to eat lunch. Or Big Boy's for dinner.

Lots of memories together. It's sad knowing there won't be any more.

I will cherish those memories now, and share them with my children who will not grow up knowing her. But I am so very thankful that I have pictures and fond memories to pass on.

She will not be forgotten. And I look forward to the day when I can see her restored and well in Heaven.....