It’s not that I can’t talk to her anymore, but over the last couple of years, I just know that with my grandfather, all the nurses to manage, and mounds of paperwork to do, she always has a lot on her mind.
I never want to be a burden. And, truthfully, even on my worst days, it doesn’t hold a candle to hers.
But she’s at the top of a very short list of people who have the ability to speak directly to my soul. And tonight, I needed that. From her.
If I ever can become even a tenth of the good woman that my grandmother is, I will have achieved something great.
And tonight, she listened.
And then she did what she always does: she got down in the ditch beside me.
And we talked of things while we laid there.
We even laughed a little.
And she humored my curse words.
Then she told me of a night that she’d had some years ago, when she just couldn’t do it anymore. She said the only choices she could make were to either leave or let it go.
And then she told me the thing I already knew but needed to hear her say:
Steph, all you can do is let it go.
Let go of what you want it to be, and resolve yourself to love them for what it is.
And then she said the thing I didn’t expect her to say, because I don’t understand how she could even know:
I know you’re going to laugh at me for saying this, but I think you should pray.
I wouldn’t have laughed at her; I didn’t. But I don’t know how she knew–that I don’t pray anymore.
But she did.
And she told me to do the very thing that my soul has been thinking about.
Because she’s an angel.
Or at least she’s mine.
She’s one of my older sisters.
She’s my best friend.
She’s the hand that takes mine and pulls me up.
And she’s the one that makes me pray.
Or at least try.