Two years ago today, Old Gertrude went home to Heaven.  I found the following “blurb” that I had written a week after her passing, and decided to put it here to remind me of that day.

  Today, At Home, she walks among the flowers, and listens to Celestial music, and adds her already perfect pitch to the choir.  She sits on Jesus’ lap, and rests and no one tries to rush her.

      She went Home without me there to hold her hand until the Angels took her.  “Heavenly Father, how very much I wanted to be there!”   And now I will never see her face again on this side of the river.  I will always wonder how those final moments were.  Was there anyone there?  Did they hold her gently until she was gathered up in the arms of the Angels to be carried home?  What was the expression on her face in Death?  Was it peaceful?  Smiling?

     It doesn’t matter now, to her at least.  She doesn’t need me to hold her hand or guide her steps.  She doesn’t need me to comb her hair or help her dress or give her a shower or bring her breakfast.  She doesn’t need me to steady the walker or fasten the seat belt or take her to the doctor.  She doesn’t need me for anything anymore.  And that is Glory for her.

    But I still need her.  I need the songs in the shower, I need the comfort she was so ready to give me.  I need the loyalty and love and conversation and presence.  It wouldn’t help in the long run, but I just wish I could touch her one more time.  I wish I could smooth that soft, soft cheek and stroke those wrinkly, veined hands.  I wish I could sing one more song with her and answer more of her never ending questions.  I wish I had one more time to be patient for the times that I wasn’t.  But I do not wish that I had loved her more, because I loved her without reservation, but I wish I could tell her one more time that I loved her.

     I always knew this day would come.  I just kept thinking it wouldn’t be now.